Welcome to Wammy
by Mikanis
Summary: Mello has just arrived at Wammy House at the young age of nine. Can he adjust to his new life after so long without an identity? M for Mature due to touchy subject matter, violence, language, and games I play with the human mind. Mikanis
1. Saved

AN- This is my first Mello story, and why is it rated Mature right off the bat? Because it needs to be. This is the story of how Mello came to Wammy, and it is...not...pretty. That being said, I want to get this out of the way. I am in no way biased when it comes to sexuality. I support love, in all it's forms. The views I portray here are not my own, nor do I really think they're accurate. I am not a member of The Catholic church, and this does NOT represent the view of all catholics. Minds wide open, people, because I will be dealing with some touchy subjects. Why make Mello gay? Because I don't like stories where characters are gay just because it's taboo and exciting. If they're gonna be gay, make it realistic...there are hardships that go along with that decision. I am a psycological writer, and therefore, I will be going into a lot of mentality, the cause and effect of action and emotion, and generally playing with the human mind. This is a serious story.

I do not own Death Note.

All that being said, if you're still interested, hang on.  
-Kani

Chapter 1 Saved.

"And He doesn't speak?"

"Not in English, sir."

"What then?"

"Well…we think it's Latin. He wears a rosary…we suspect he's reciting catholic prayers."

"And he's still violent?"

"Only when men touch him, sir."

"Abused then?"

"We don't think so. Not physically anyway..."

"You said he came from the Italian orphanage?" The file was flipped through, lain open on the desk as papers were thumbed aside. The hands paused and drew out a photograph of a young boy, about age nine, with iron-straight blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

"Yes sir, though it was more a catholic child reformation center than an Orphanage."

"Reformation?"

"Yes sir…they took in disowned children, or children with flaws, and attempted to fix them through the power of Christ."

"Respect."

"Yes sir, I'm sorry."

"The Catholic church had nothing to do with it…the orphanage was run by an old priest and some would-be men of the cloth. Why is he here?"

"He's highly intelligent sir."

"How do you know this?"

"He's memorized the bible in English, Italian, and Latin, Sir."

"I know people that can recite the bible…"

"He was only in that orphanage for a year sir. Three languages over the course of a year."

"…I see. Why was he at the orphanage in the first place? He's obviously gifted…"

"…Well…"

"Yes?"

"He's gay, sir."

XXXX

He lifted his head from his arms at the sound of footsteps approaching. The familiar anger that he kept close to his heart sprung to life like a feral cat. No, he would not yield unto temptation, and damn these vile sinners to hell.

He stood shakily, leaning back on the wall. Lithe and wiry at nine and a half, he knew he was no match for the men coming, but he'd die before he let them off without a scratch. The sound of the lock opening reached his ears, and his hands unconsciously tensed, his fingers spread like claws.

"Back away from the door, kid." He was in the center of the room when they stepped in, half crouched, the long Rosary swinging from his neck. The younger workers entered slowly, and the boy growled, refusing to be backed into a corner. There was a gleam of panic in his eyes as they started to circle him however.

It was inevitable he supposed, with five young men against a small boy like himself. He was never large or overly strong, so after a moment's struggle and some vehement cursing, he found himself pinned to the floor.

Panic beat in his chest like a rabbit in a snare, until he felt his heart would burst. He kicked, struggled, bit available fingers and spat at nearby faces. They would not release him yet.

"Where the _hell_ is Nona?! C'mon, He's gonna hurt himself!" One called over his shoulder, and he knew then that someone was coming. Someone with a needle, some one who would take his thoughts away from him…real fear, like an icy shot alongside his anger, hit his system and he did the first thing that came to mind.

He prayed.

"D-Domine Iesu!"

"Oh god, here we go…"

" Dimitte nobis debita nostra, salva nos ab igne inferiori…" He kicked and fought, the Latin coming easily to his tongue, but leaving with difficulty as he struggled to breathe. " …Perduc in caelum omnes animas, praesertim eas, quae misericordiae tuae maxime indigent!"

_Oh, Lord Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of Hell; Lead all souls to heaven, especially those who are in need of your mercy!_

"Would you shut him up, Eric? He's creeping me out."

"He's just a kid…I'm not gonna knock him out, he's scared enough already."

A woman darted through the door, small, thin, and headed straight towards him. The small plastic tool in her hand nearly brought his heart to a stop. He shook his head, no, chanting his prayer like a mantra as his struggle doubled in vehemence. His arm was twisted behind his back, his face pressed painfully into the floor, but he never stopped, his voice steadily raising in its frantic pitch and volume.

"Domine Iesu! Domine Iesu Dimitte no…" He heard the click of the cap coming off.

"Hold him boys…I don't want to hurt him."

"For God's Sake, just dope him Nona! Let's Go!" He felt it slip into the bared flesh of his arm, and wrenched with all of his strength.

"NOBIS DEBITA NOSTRA, SALVA NOW AB IGNE…" The cry died on his lips as the drug hit his system…"In-Inferiori…perduc in ca…caelum omnes…"

The world was gone.

XXXX

He awoke with a start, strapped to a chair, in some kind of office. Sunlight was warm on his pale skin, coming in through a window over his shoulder, and it was painfully bright as the sedative left his system.

The words came unbidden to his lips. "Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccáta mundi, dona nobis pacem."

_Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world; grant us peace._

The door opened behind him, and he froze, staring stoically ahead.

"You speak English?"

He nodded once.

"Will you speak with me?" He answered with his eyes, distrusting. The old man nodded and sat across from the desk from him. He glared pointedly at the retraints on his wrists.

"My name is Roger…and your name is now Mello." He returned his eyes to the kinder blue ones. "We know who you really are, but you're attitude suggests that you no longer wish to acknowledge that past. Are we correct?"

Mello, as it were, nodded slowly.

"Good. Do you know why you are here?" He shook his head no, throwing his dirty hair out of his eyes…he felt terribly unclean. He hadn't bathed in two days, and the medication made his blood feel thick and slow.

"You're very intelligent, yes?" Mello nodded, a small flare of pride rising his chest. He quelled it instantly, for it was a sin.

"This is a special place. We're here to help children like you…give you a future." But Mello had heard that one before, oh yes he had. His face twisted in unspeakable loathing and he spat on the floor, turning to stare at the wall. People didn't give sinners like him a future…they gave him leave to punish himself, repent. He had no future.

"Mello, please don't be rude. I speak the truth."

"Said Satan to Adam in the sacred garden. I speak the truth and make it so."

"Ah…you do speak."

"When faced with sin, one who speaks the truth of Christ is armed with his sword."

"Mello…We know why you were in that place." Mello eyes snapped back to his, and if he could have, he'd have been across the desk already, clawing the kind face from it's bones.

"I am broken, and made wrong, but Christ will forgive the devout!"

"Mello…we don't care. It's fine."

"Then you shall all burn for allowing sinners their obscene desires!" The older man sighed, standing again.

"If you are quite finished?"

"Christ is never tired, his judgement always swift."

"Mello, we are keeping you in solitary confinement until you come to terms with your new surroundings. When you are ready, you will be given a bed, three meals a day, and the opportunity to learn anything you want." Mello perked at that…they would teach him?

"And you will understand soon enough that we know that God has gifted you with an amazing talent. We do not take his blessings lightly." The elder man to turned to leave.

"Roger!" The elder paused, turning in the doorway. Mello craned his head to look over his shoulder.

"If they do not touch me, I will not fight. Please, Elder, do not drug me again…I will not fight, in God's Name I swear it." Roger regarded him quietly for a moment.

"Very well Mello. I will tell them. If I hear otherwise-"

"You won't. The biggest mistake a man can make is to lie to his God." Roger stared at the nine-year old in the chair, with something not quite akin to pity in his eyes…more like a tired resolve.

"I will tell them."

As the door swung shut, he heard the young boy quote. "Misereátur tui omnípotens Deus."

_May Almighty God have mercy on you._


	2. What You Are

AN- Mello calms a bit here...-Kani

When they came to release Mello, as he'd already begun referring to himself, they didn't dare touch him. One released the strap on one arm and allowed him to work himself free. He stood, self-consciously brushing his black cotton pants smooth, and refused to look at any of them. Four people were assigned to him, apparently, this small team of young assistants. They knew about his…deviance, but they would not punish him for it?

In truth, that was a grand relief. In the…the other place, they'd done nothing but punish him, forcing him to study his scripture, and whipping him when he dared be insolent. God saw fit to give him a big mouth, and while he wasn't the most courteous of people, he figured that if he spread the gospel while lashing out at his enemies, God would forgive him something. Maybe not his deviance, but he would forgive him something.

They led him back to the room in silence. He realized that it was a bedroom, really, and that they'd removed the furniture to keep him there. He paused outside the door, speaking to his captors for the first time. There was an ice in his voice, a coldness that they had nothing to do with.

"May I bathe?"

"Huh?"

"May I bathe?" He held up a lock of his hair, glaring at it in disgust. "I'm filthy, and I wish to be clean."

One of them spoke up…Eric, he guessed, the one with the kind eyes and big grin. "I'll have to ask, but I'll let you know. What did they name you?"

"I am to be called Mello."

"Well…I'm Eric. We're supposed to take care of you until you get settled in. If you want, I can fetch you some new clothes."

"This place would dress me as well?"

"Yes, in almost anything you want." Mello eyed him suspiciously. What kind of place offered that kind of service for no reason? Was this some ploy…to get him to trust them? He glanced down at his baggy pants and bare chest and decided that it didn't matter. He felt terribly self-conscious, and the pack of men standing around him certainly wasn't easing his tension.

"I don't know what you want from me, but I would appreciate the clothing later." He paused, and then ventured the question that had been haunting his thoughts since he awoke strapped to the chair. "I am not allowed to leave here, am I?"

Eric shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. We have assumed legal guardian ship of you…and in truth, we've bought the right to take care of you."

"You bought me?" Mello's fist clenched as the word slave echoed through his head like a blacksmith's hammer.

"No! No…we did not buy you…we do not own you. We merely paid the fools so that we could take care of you here." Mello was not reassured.

"And what of the other children?" Eric smiled.

"Well…from what I understand, once you were safe, they called the government on the orphanage…neglect and abuse charges. They've all been moved and dispersed."

Mello nodded more to himself, leaning in the doorway to his room. "God saves his lambs…Tell me, how long must you keep watch on me?"

"Until you are no longer deemed a threat to yourself, or the other children."

"There are other children here?"

"Oh yes. We adopt from all over the world. Roger will be along shortly to give you the tour, if you feel you are ready."

"If he holds his agreement, then I shall be fine. No one touches me, no one drugs me."

Eric waved the others off, and they headed down the hall to the stairs. He smiled at Mello for a moment, wonder in his voice. "You have no idea what you are, do you?"

"A sinner, vile spawn of mortal men, with weakness in my heart and soul…the list is quite lengthy."

"I meant your mind."

"No." Mello shifted, arms still crossed defensively over his chest, hugging himself so tight that the beads of his rosary pressed red marks into his skin. Eric shook his head, and pulled out his key ring.

"You'll find out soon enough, I suppose. I'll go talk to Roger about clothes and a bath. Are you hungry yet?"

"I do not eat much…and I am accustomed to eating the little that I do around sunrise."

"It will be taken care of." He waved Mello into the room, and he stared at the door as it closed, once again alone with his thoughts. The sedative was still clinging to his system, and it made him ill. Mello had always been highly sensitive to drugs and medication. His body either processed them too quickly or they had little to no effect at all. They'd barely dosed him, but he felt as though they'd tried to knock a horse unconscious.

He paced furiously, doing laps around his tiny room for as long as his legs would carry him, walking the last of it off. He didn't know what time it was, so he recited his evening prayers anyway, just to be safe. The sun had seemed rather low in the office window.

He paused.

It had been a nice window. It was a strange thing, something a normal child might not have noticed he supposed, but it had been…big. The quarters he'd had at the run-down monastery-turned-orphanage had a hole in the wall. It allowed just enough sunlight into his room for him to know when he should pray. Each night, he could count between eleven and twenty-two stars through that little window…if the glass was not foggy. The window in the office…had been real. Wooden sill, and wrought iron…glass as clear as spring water.

A knock sounded at his door. The paranoia returned, along with a sarcastic amusement. They locked him within these doors, and then knocked? As though he could grant or deny them entrance. He didn't honor the attempt at politeness with a witty remark…it was almost beneath him.

Pride.

Father forgive.

The pacing resumed as the lock clicked open.

"Mello?"

"Eric?"

"Yes. There is a bath ready for you if you still want it. I've brought you a change of clothes…Roger will take you from the bathroom for your tour." Mello hesitated, a hand fisting around his crucifix.

"I will follow."

XXXX

"Must they follow us?"

"They only follow because you proved difficult in the first place, Mello."

"Hmm." Mello walked along side the older man, a careful distance between them. If he could have, he would have behind him, or far in front. He did not trust him at all. 'Wammy House' was extensive, however, and he dared not stray too far. There were children everywhere, ages three to twenty or so. Some studied, most played, either by themselves or in small groups. He dared not get lost because they did not know what he was…he may corrupt them.

He did not know if his deviance was contagious, but he decided to be the bigger man and not risk it.

Roger led him through the place, with his small pack of guards a few feet behind, trying to stay out of the way. Mello just took in his surroundings with a critical eye, his hand shoved deep into his pockets. They'd given him a pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Roger had been surprised to realize that his hair was naturally that straight…it fell straight and swung when he walked, blonde as corn silk when freshly washed. He seemed a bit more himself once he was clean again. Still he walked as though waiting for someone to kick him.

He was entirely distrustful of them. He was waiting on someone to pull the rug from his feet and proclaim it all a joke, tell him to get on his knees and recite the old testament like the heretic he was.

They passed the library, and a figure in white caught his attention. He refused to enter the room, pausing just outside the door. Roger turned in surprise when he realized he wasn't there anymore. The kid in white, a boy working a white puzzle…looked up quietly.

"Mello…what is it son?" Mello's blue-grey eyes locked with those empty black ones, and his hand came out of his pocket to hold his crucifix. Roger looked between the two of them.

"Mello…this is Near."

"I don't care what his name is." Neither moved, their eyes never twitching from the other's. Something was decided then, and the old man glanced between the odd pair, confused.

"Mello, that's quite rude of-"

"I said I didn't care. I don't like him." Near brought a hand slowly to his hair; wrapping a lock around his finger and tugging at it painfully hard. His face remained impassive, and Mello watched him warily. Every thing about this kid didn't sit well with him. Something was off, something was wrong.

"Roger, I will not come in there. I see it, it's a nice library, now let's go." Mello hadn't even glanced around the room yet, but Roger seemed to sense that he'd missed something. Mello stepped to the side, careful to maintain his distance as the elder slipped past him. Near nodded to him once, and returned to his puzzle. Mello didn't favor him with a response as he turned and left.

XXXX

"Roger?" The old man paused to look at him. Mello shifted from foot to foot, looking up and down the hall. He really didn't like being this exposed, this…helpless. That's really how he felt he supposed. He suddenly found himself at the mercy of these people, and he did not like it.

It was one thing to be back at the monastery…at least he knew them…knew what to expect from them. This was unfamiliar in the extreme though. He quite literally felt like a cat being carried into a river.

"When do I begin classes?" Roger's white eyebrows rose, but a smile lit his face. Mello looked away. He didn't like it when people smiled at him…especially men.

"If you're up to it already, I'll give you a list of what we offer. You can pick your own schedule."

"I decide what I have classes in?"

"Yes…and what time. All we require is that you actually take classes." Mello absorbed this carefully. Kids went running by the hallway, screaming in laughter, and he looked away. He still was not used to…freedom. He could go where he pleased, do what he liked here.

"I'll put you in a single room tonight…you can have it to yourself for as long as you require solitude. I understand that you've gone through some hard times and-"

"Do not speak of it. Do not ever speak to me of it. I don't care what you think you know, my business with the Lord is mine and his. You had no right to interfere."

"We shall see about that. Come, I'll take you to the clothier."

"Roger?"

"Yes, Mello?"

"I…I want to see a priest." Roger turned to look at him. Mello had a firm resolve about him…it was almost sad to this slip of boy try to be so much more. He had the potential but he had, until recently, lacked opportunity. Roger nodded to himself, resolving to bring the youth back to earth.

"We have one that visits weekly."

"Will he hear confession?"

"Yes." Mello relaxed slightly, and shoved his hands back in his pockets. Roger gestured, and he followed again.

At least he had a priest.


	3. Home

The clothier was terrifying. It was a huge room, ridiculously large, bigger even than the chapel at the monastery. Racks upon racks of clothes, organized by size.

"We have people donate from all over the world." Roger explained easily, walking him up to the desk in the center of the room. Mello's eyes were huge as he turned in circles, staring at the rainbow of styles and colors. A small woman came up to the two them, older, like Roger, with a strict expression. Mello met her stare and held it for a moment, and when she smiled, he looked away, mumbling latin under his breath.

"What kind of clothing would you like?" Mello didn't hear her, still turning slowly in circles, tucking a piece of blond hair behind his ear. He really needed to have it cut again…it was almost brushing his shoulders now.

"Mello?"

"Hmm?"

"What kind of clothing would you like?" Mello just stared at him blankly.

"Do you have a preference?" Mello glanced down at what he was wearing… baggy blue jeans, a small black t-shirt.

"I…I get to pick?"

"Yes."

"I don't want to pick."

"Not even a color?" Mello wrapped a hand around his rosary again. Surely picking a color wasn't being too prideful…surely not.

"I…black?"

"Black it is then." The woman walked off, and Mello tensed instantly, taking a few steps to follow her.

"Roger, where is she going?"

"To get the clothes." Mello looked back the old man and then watched the lady's graying hair turn a corner.

"I don't want her to. Bring her back."

"Why?"

"I don't…" Mello's eyes widened as she returned with and entire rack of clothes, rolling it around the corner. His heart picked up. Surely not…no…

"See anything you like?" She called as she brought it up to them and turned it broad side. Everything…Mello had never seen…

"No." Yes. There at the end. His heart stopped at the last hanger, and he clutched his crucifix so hard that he would leave an imprint of it in his palm. Roger reached to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and snatched it back, remembering their deal at the last second. It was painful…to see this child this way, so sheltered he didn't even know what he liked to wear.

"Roger…I can't."

"Why not, Mello?"

"Roger, please, just take me back to my room." Roger frowned, but the woman didn't say anything, crossing her arms.

"Mello…you need to pick something. We don't care what it is, but-"

"This, then! More jeans and black t-shirts!" Mello turned his back to the rack, heart pounding in his ears. "Please, no more. Take me back."

"Mello, why…"

"Too much. You offer too much to the damned, and that kindness will only damn you as well. Take me out of here."

Roger sighed, but nodded to Penny. She looked over his clothing once, instinctively guessing his size and then waving them off. Roger started walking again, and Mello cast a final glance around and pressed a kiss to his crucifix and held it to his forehead in salute.

XXXX

Roger led Mello back to the lodging wing, but to a different floor. He pulled his key ring out and opened the door to a room in the middle of the hall. It was quiet here, no signs of other children at all, and Mello finally began to relax a bit. The door swung open and Mello was still looking down the hall when he stepped in. He brought his head forward and froze.

"Roger, what is this?"

"Your new room Mello. After a week in the other one, I think it's safe enough to give you a bed." He had fought them for a week before being registered, but Mello didn't understand the sudden upgrade. It seemed they were trying to smother him in kindess.

There was huge window…well, huge by his standards. The sill was large enough that he could sit on it, small as he was. It was open now, and the breeze smelled of grass and sunshine. There was a small bed, a dresser, a closet, and a nightstand…there was a full vanity in one corner. Mello caught his reflection in the mirror and stared for a moment before scowling at it.

"Is something wrong?"

"Mirror…tool of vanity…" He actually had no idea what he looked like. He hadn't seen his reflection while at the monastery. The room was done in white, a painting on one wall…a decorative lamp and vase of herbs on the dresser, full of thyme and sage…

"It's beautiful." Roger smiled.

"It's yours for as long as you want it, Mello. I will still be locking you in at night for a while, however. You're attitude has improved, but it leaves some to be desired, still. Eric left the course listing on the desk. Fill it out, and he'll walk you around when-"

"No."

"What is it?"

"I want you to show me around. Not him…not any of them."

"Why?"

"They have touched me. They make me uncomfortable." Roger sighed, but nodded.

"Yes, of course. I'll take you to your classes then…at least the first day. I handle all incoming wards, Mello…I will be very busy during the day."

"I understand. Thank you for your patience."

"Well…I'll leave you to it then. Eric will bring you dinner. He told me you spoke to him."

"He has a kind smile…He should have children some day."

"I'm glad you like him."

"I don't. I just think he should have children of his own." Roger smiled and headed for the door again.

"In a way, he does. We all do, here at Wammy's." The door shut, and Mello looked around his room again. Then he set to work.

XXXX

"Roger…you should come and look at this." Roger pulled himself up and went to security screen. It depicted Mello's room, and he knelt beside his bed saying a prayer. He didn't catch it at first, but upon closer inspection, he noticed the problem.

Mello had taken every personal object, the vase, the lamp, and shoved them into his closet. He finished his prayer and stood, glancing around the room one final time. After a moment's consideration, he strode over to the painting on the wall. It was replica, depicting the English moors. He ran his fingers down the glass, a small admiring smile on his face. Without another thought, he gripped its sides, and hefted it off the wall.

"What is he doing?" The painting followed the other items, and he leaned it gently against the wall in the closet and then turned his attention to the mirror.

"He's stripping it of everything material. He doesn't feel he deserves them."

"They really did a number on him, didn't they?" Roger nodded, and sighed in relief that the mirror was attached to the vanity. Mello couldn't move it. It would have been too heavy anyway, and he'd likely have broken it and hurt himself.

He leaned on the vanity counter for a moment, and Roger saw the disgust on his face. He ran a hand through his hair, muttering something as he glared at the long strands.

"What did he say?"

"I think it was 'I look like a woman.'" Roger chuckled and watched him snatch his hair back into a tight pony-tail, securing it with a piece of leather he kept tied around his wrist. He glanced around the room a final time and nodded to himself that it was sufficiently bare. Then he knelt again, saying a final prayer, and climbed into bed.

"He's like a nine year-old monk, isn't he?"

"Something like it."

XXXX

Mello dreamed. Roger sat up that night to keep an eye on his newest child, sipping a cup of cocoa and reading. The older gentleman looked up when Mello started thrashing in his sleep, the movement onscreen drawing his eyes from the pages. He watched for a moment, frowning. Mello began reciting in his sleep, curled in his sleep and flinching visibly every phrase. The old man stood, and stretched, reaching into a drawer of his desk as the figure on the laptop spoke in fluent Latin.

He paused when the Latin switched to English, and the words stilled the blood in his veins.

"I am a heretic, I have sinned. I have gazed upon the forbidden flesh of my fellow men with lust in my heart, and I am damned. I am a heretic, Father Forgive." He straightened in his sleep slightly, before curling tighter, and it dawned on Roger that he was reliving a whipping.

"I am a heretic, I have sinned. I have gazed upon the forbidden flesh of my fellow men with lust in my heart, and I am damned. I am a heretic, Father Forgive." Another imaginary blow fell, and Roger straightened his glasses, a vile anger starting in his old heart.

"I am a heretic."

"You are a child." He set off for Mello's room.

XXXX

Mello woke the instant the door opened, wrenching out sleep with his heart in his throat and his mind far away, back in Italy, in a cold monastery.

"Mello, its me. Roger." Mello blinked slowly, and reality came back to him. It was the old man…not the priest making a midnight repentance round. Just the old man…the one who…

"Why are you here?"

"You were dreaming."

"You knew?"

"Yes…we have cameras on this floor…to make sure no one gets hurt." Mello throat was dry but he nodded. His eyes came to rest on the object in Roger's hand, and he cocked his head in sleepy confusion.

"A rabbit?" Roger nodded and tossed it to him. He caught it, turning the terry-cloth stuffed animal over in his hands.

"That's Home."

"Huh?"

"The rabbit…his name is Home. He's part of the uh…small bunny army we've collected over the years. He'll help you sleep." Mello gave him a look, and Roger just held his hands up.

"I'm not the one who says it. Just trust me…I have it on good authority that he's one of our best."

"From who? The three years olds? Ah…Father Forgive, I'm tired." Roger sighed to hear those words.

"Why is he named Home?"

"Does it matter? Keep him as long as you need him. Bring him to my office when you're done." Mello held the rabbit up by the ears, staring at it critically.

"Goodnight Mello."

"God keep you, Roger." The door shut.

Mello listened to the footsteps leading away from his room and stared at the button eyed white rabbit in his fingers. A cynical chuckle left his lips…out of curiosity, he brought the animal to his nose and sniffed it. It smelled of tears and laundry detergent…and possibly some woman's perfume. He looked it over once more, and then set it on the small dresser at the end of his bed. It stared at him, and he frowned. He turned it around, but then it was staring at him in the mirror. He sighed, and lay it face down on the wood. There…better.

He curled up and stared out his window, over the English moor, and wondered why anyone would name a rabbit Home. Sleep was a long time coming.


	4. Fears

AN- I've introduced Matt here, later. I looked it up to be sure, and his real name is pronounced "Mile".

Three days later, Mello walked down the hall alone for the first time. The scrap of paper in his hands was a schedule. They'd denied him half the classes he wanted, simply because he wanted to take almost twenty a week. They explained to him that he had to pace them out, or he wouldn't be able to keep up with the workload.

He shifted the messenger bag serving as his backpack and tapped his bible impatiently against his leg as he considered the list. He was supposed to be on his way to Geometry I, but he wasn't sure where exactly he was. The tapping increased as his paranoia kicked in again. He was surrounded by kids…some walking with a purpose, others playing. It was strange. The classes were held in rooms, like the library…one was even in the kitchen because the chef apparently knew German.

He continued tapping his bible against his thigh as he walked. They'd given him shoes, a pair of plain black leather boots, and filled his wardrobe with the same non-descript black shirt and jeans. There had been a few variations…such as tighter jeans, a black button-up shirt…black jeans and a blue shirt…but he stuck with his original and banished them to the bottom drawer. Home, that strange little bunny, was currently sitting in the closet next to the vase.

He paused to sniff his shirt. Damn…he smelled like the herbs now. The strong scent was masculine enough that he didn't mind, but it had to be on all of his clothes by now. It made his eyes water to open the closet door in the mornings. His hair was back again, because he felt too feminine to wear this long normally. The monastery used to cut it off at his chin, and that was good enough for him. He may be gay, but he was not a woman.

The tapping stopped as his location dawned on him, a flicker of recognition at the painting on the wall. He set off, reassured that he was, in fact, in the right place. He found the class easily after that, and mentally enforced his map of the place. It wasn't so bad.

He'd gone to a basic school in southern Italy when he'd first started noticing boys. It wasn't a big deal to him, much like boys will ignore girls for a few years after they first start seeing them differently. His family was large, always had been, and devoutly Catholic. Because he was so young, he missed the gospel that told him his desires were wrong. They'd shielded him from it until it was too late. One night, he told his mother that he had a crush on a boy at school, trying to participate in the conversation as they made dinner with his sisters.

Possibly the worst mistake of his life. Mello glanced around at the other children from a place by the door before heading back to his seat. The way it'd been explained to him, this was an orphanage for exceptional children. They'd made a terrible mistake, because Mello was not an orphan. Mello was disowned, and abandoned. His father had driven him into the hills outside the city, and left him in that…asylum.

His family was still alive. Mello didn't care.

XXXX

Roger was in the process of researching Mello's past when he got the call that something had gone terribly wrong. There'd been a fight on the lower floor, over by the fifth classroom.

He arrived to find Mello and Eric crouched on the floor. Eric's hand was pressed to another child's throat, and Mello was on his knees rocking back and forth with his crucifix in fist, reciting the prayer of contrition.

"Eric, what's going on?"

"Apparently he shoved Mello around for a few minutes…drove him into a panic. Mello cracked a chair over his head."

"Good God, is he okay?"

"Oh yeah…out cold, but he's fine. Mello thinks he's dead though…" He gave a wry grin, and Roger frowned.

"Get him to the infirmary, I'll deal with Mello." He glanced at the other children. One of the younger ones piped up, staring curiously at the blonde.

"Is he a witch, Roger?" Another kid cut him off.

"Of course not…he's just praying…" Roger decided to let the older kid handle it as he sat next to Mello, placing a hand on his back and stroking his shoulder blades. Mello was so scared that even the touch didn't register.

"What's prayin?" The four year old asked.

"He's saying sorry to his God..."

"What's God?"

"I'll tell you when you're older." Roger smiled at the older kid and the reached to tug Mello's clasped hands from his forehead.

"Mello?"

"Roger, I think I killed him, I think he's dead, he's just lying there…" Mello noticed the 'body' was gone.

"Oh Christ, he is dead, isn't he?" The hands went back and he trembled, blue eyes huge. Roger sighed and yanked the hands away again, refusing to let him pray.

"He's not dead Mello. You just hurt him."

"But he was just lying there."

"Well, he's not dead. You only knocked him unconscious. He'll wake up with a head ache, but he'll be fine." Reality came back as the panic ebbed from his eyes a bit. He began trying to slow his breathing down, holding his crucifix fisted to his heart.

"Holy Mary, I thought I'd killed him…"

"You might have…if you'd been strong enough." The words sent another shock through the boy, almost sending him back into his frenzied prayer, but that's when he realized that Roger's hand was on his back.

"Don't touch me." Roger nodded, taking his hand away. He spoke quietly as he waved the other children away.

"I just had to get you back Mello. Come walk with me." Mello nodded and got to his feet, his knees shaking slightly. He never released his crucifix. He led him to the door at the end of the hall, and then out onto the grounds. They set off across the grass.

"Am I in trouble Roger?"

"I'm not sure. You seem to regret it."

"I panicked…You told them all not to touch me, but he just…he just kept doing it. He said I was weird, that I looked like a little girl, and he kept touching me." Roger knew Mello well enough to know that it hadn't been anything sexual…if it had, Mello _would_ have killed him. He knew boys liked to cross lines however, so the assault made sense.

"He wasn't trying to hurt you, Mello."

"He wouldn't let go…he put his hands on my shoulders, kept pulling my hair. Why?"

"He was testing you. Likely wanted to know why he wasn't supposed to do it."

"Well he bloody knows now, doesn't he?" Roger glanced at him surprised. Mello's anger instantly shifted to remorse, but Roger was still glad. There was boy beneath this religious mask, he was sure of it. A regular Hellion if his experience told him anything. He wanted that boy…the wild and proud one…he'd never get far with this forced personality.

"I'm not going to punish you this time, Mello. The next time it happens though, I want you to just walk away. Don't do anything…just walk away." Mello shook his head.

"I don't know if I can Roger."

"Why not?"

"I have a terrible temper. Father Forgive, but…it felt good to hit him."

"Mello…You can't be violent with these children. They'll understand today, because you were provoked, but they are not normal children. They think just like you do…"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you are nine and half years old and you think as though you are sixteen. You're advanced. You're smart…that's why you're here. But you have to understand that you're not the only one here that is."

"Why did he attack me then, if they're all so intelligent?"

"Because they, like you, are still children. To think well is one thing, to think with maturity…that comes with time, no matter how hard you try."

"I am mature. My Faith guides me."

"You're faith will not always be enough Mello." Mello cast him a scathing glare.

"You doubt the power of Christ?"

"I doubt you." That stopped him, and Roger turned to finish. "I doubt you, because you are a mortal being. Just as I am. God helps those…"

"…who help themselves. I've heard it before Roger. Still, I didn't exactly have to ask for help, remember? My parents saw that I got all the_ help_ I needed."

Roger sighed. "Mello…you have to get over your phobia of being touched. You cannot live like that forever…"

"I can try."

"Why are you afraid of physical contact?" Mello dropped his eyes, crossing his arms defensively over his chest again as he stared at the dirt. His voice was slightly monotonic as he recited.

"Because I am unclean, and will taint the innocents that touch me."

"Why are you unclean?"

"You ask a lot of questions Roger." Roger sighed, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Mello…no one here is going to harm you. Even that boy back there…he was just curious." Mello didn't look at him, shifting his back pack on his shoulder.

"Roger, I would like to return to my room please. I have homework."

The old man sighed gently, looking out across the fields. "Very well…We will have this conversation one day Mello. However, I do promise you that I am not looking forward to it anymore than you are."

"God keep you, Roger."

"I'll see you at Dinner, son." Roger watched the boy head off across the grass.

XXXX

_December 7__th__, 1999_

Mello was reading his bible on his bed when the voices passed his door. Roger, Eric and a younger, much more violent voice that he didn't recognize.

"Get OFF me you Fuckers, what the hell do you want!"

"Roger, hurry with door, this guy's almost as bad as Mello was." Mello perked at that, marking his page with a finger.

"Let me GO!"

"Matt, calm down!"

"MY NAME IS MAIL!!!" Mello raised an eyebrow. Mile? He sounded upset, whoever this Mile was.

The door finally came open apparently, because it was slammed shut two seconds later. There was a knock at his door. He rose and answered it, peering out into the hall. The door directly across from him rattled and shook as the boy within beat on it.

"Mello…if he bothers you, let us know…we'll move him."

"I assume he's new then."

"Yeah…his parents just died last week, and they sent him to us."

"His name is to be Matt?" The boy had fallen quiet, and he could imagine there being an ear pressed to the crack by the floor.

"Yes…you don't mind, do you?" Mello had had this hall to himself almost since he came here…there weren't many others that needed private rooms. Mello's phobia and violent tendencies justified his keeping of his room. He tucked his hair behind his ears.

"Three days until my birthday and you give me a loud hall mate. Thanks Roger." Roger just shook his head at the sarcasm. He allowed him these small whips because it meant that was starting to open up…just a little. The boy had a biting satire, and had started falling back to his wit instead of his fists, finally.

Not until after he'd earned a reputation for his violence, however. The kids knew not to touch him now…and though he was still occasionally assaulted by larger groups of four or five, they usually left him alone now. Mello had made his name at Wammy.

He was incredibly intelligent. Even Roger was shocked at just how far he'd come in the few months since summer. He was pulling closer and closer to Near, and he wasn't even aware of the race yet.

Roger and Eric were really the only people Mello truly respected. He was polite to Roger, aside from his little jabs now and then, and he tolerated Eric's presence simply because the man was so patient with him. Mello still hated the dining hall, but Eric never sighed when he requested a meal in his room. He peered around the two of them at the door again.

"Is he civil?"

"We don't know yet…but he's just had a great shock, and refuses to have anything to do with us."

"How long is he going to be locked in?"

"Until he is civil." Eric said with a wry grin.

"YOU BASTARDS CAN'T DO THIS!"

"On contrary, they can." Mello turned to regard the two of them again. "It's fine. I suppose we'll both be taking our dinner in our rooms tonight."

Eric nodded and they both headed downstairs. Mello leaned in the door for a long time, bible still marked in his hand, and listened. Matt beat at the door, and there was a distinctive shatter that told him the vase had been thrown. This continued for a long time, almost half an hour, until Mello assumed he'd worn himself out. He didn't say anything, just listened the anonymous tantrum, trying to put a face to the frustrated yells and banging of furniture.

Silence fell suddenly. Mello's eyes widened as the door bumped, and he imagined a boy his size setting his back to it and sliding to the floor.

The quiet sound of crying met his ears moment later. Mello felt his throat constrict slightly as he listened to the faceless boy sob. He shut his door, backing up to his bed and staring at the doorknob. He couldn't hear the tears anymore, but they echoed in his mind.

He pushed them away, and opened his bible again.


	5. Friends

"Back away from the door, kid." Mello glanced up at the sound of Eric's voice.

"NO! Go AWAY!"

"Look, Matt, you've got to eat."

"I don't want your fucking food! It's probably drugged or something." Mello marked his page again and waited. As expected, a knock came at his door. He sighed, hopping off the bed. Eric was waiting with the tray balanced on his hip, a bowl of hot soup and a few rolls adorning the silver.

"Mello, could you talk to him? He's sitting against the door, and I don't want to spill this." Mello nodded. Five hours, and this kid was already causing him trouble. He felt the irritation lace under his skin again, and stepped across the hall. Eric waited by his door.

He cleared his throat, and tapped the door quietly with his shoe. Nodding to himself, he backed up a step and kicked the door with all his might. A startled yelp sounded from the other side, and he raised his voice, speaking in the harshest tones he could manage.

"Listen up you whiny fuck! Get your candy-ass away from this God damned door, or I swear before Christ and the Holy Mary that I will mop the floor with your stubborn, bull-shitted self!"

There was the sound of scrambling, and Eric shook his head as he opened the door.

"They always listen to you."

Mello just shrugged. "When one carries the word of God…"

"…One bears his sword, Yeah I know. Go wash your mouth out with soap Little Preacher." Mello hung in the hallway, trying to get a glimpse of the new kid, but the door swung shut before he could see inside. He rolled his eyes and, muttering the prayer of contrition again, he went back to his room and sat on his bed.

A minute later, Eric came out. Mello called through the door before he left.

"Hey Eric!"

"Yes, Mello?" Mello brushed his hair behind his ear again, talking seriously.

"Don't let anyone drug him." Eric raised an eyebrow, and Mello repeated. "I mean it…don't let anyone drug him. Not without Roger's express orders. He may be a whiny bitch, but-"

"I understand." And Mello believed him.

XXXX

"Hey!" Mello ignored him.

"HEY MELLO!" Mello rolled his eyes to ceiling and asked God for patience. He went to the door.

"What Matt?"

"I…um…" Mello crossed his arms, staring at the door across the hall.

"Thank you…about the drugs thing…" Mello waved it off as though the boy could actually see it.

"They won't do it unless you give them reason. In fact, I bet if you start calming down, instead of acting like a crazed junkie, they'll unlock your door in a few days. Then you can start classes."

"They give classes here?"

"Matt, you're at an orphanage. A good one. They'll teach you anything you want."

"Please don't call me that. My name is Mail…why won't they listen?"

"Because they're trying to give you a new life. I won't call you Mail, because I agree with them." Mello sat with his back to the door, returning to his bible study.

"I don't need a new life…I had one."

"Matt, you're parents are dead, and you have no one left. You're here. Deal with it."

"…You're a bitch, aren't you?"

"Only when I'm being whined at." Mello returned easily.

"Mello?"

"Yes?"

"Why don't you ever leave your room? I saw other kids here when they brought me up…but I've been here a week, and every night, you're still there. What do you do?"

"I don't leave because to be honest, I don't like people. I read my bible or study."

"You have a bible?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Silence fell again, and Mello didn't press the matter. He'd learned over the last few months that talking about religion seemed to put people off. He must admit that he'd gotten a quiet satisfaction from simply quoting scripture until the annoying people that tried to talk to him went away. Eric wasn't the only one who called him Little Preacher.

"Mello?"

"Yeah?"

"Why am I here?"

"You're smart. Genius kind of smart. I don't know what your gift is yet, but you have one. They brought you here because they want to make sure that you get the right kind of schooling."

"Right kind?"

"Yeah…they want to make sure that your…mind isn't wasted, I guess. Kinda hard to explain."

"Computers."

"What?"

"Computers…that's uh…what I'm good at. My 'gift'. I'm good with electronics."

"You like games?"

"I've never played any." Mello turned to stare at the door.

"How can you be a computer genius and never play a video game?"

"I wasn't allowed to. My parents thought it was a waste of time."

"Oh." Silence fell, and Mello finally made it to Corinthians.

"Mello?" Mello resisted the urge to kick the door again.

"Yes, Matt?"

"How old are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I heard you tell Roger that your birthday was a few days ago…when I first got here." Mello nodded to himself, recalling the remark.

"Yeah…December tenth. I'm ten."

"Ten?"

"Yes."

"Wow…you sound like you're older…like fifteen or something."

"What about you?"

"I'll be ten in February." Mello shook his head, hardly surprised. He learned quickly that even the toddlers in this place were smart…he'd held several conversation with a couple four year-olds…helped one little girl with her homework.

"Mello?" Mello sighed and he amended. "Oh sorry…you're still trying to read aren't you?"

"Yeah, kind of…"

"I'll leave you alone then." Mello suddenly looked up, surprised.

"Well that's odd…"

"What?"

"This is the longest conversation I've had with another boy since I got here."

"You're not very social are you?"

"No. And once your room is unlocked, we likely won't talk much any more."

"Hey Mello?"

"What?"

"Will you be my friend?"

"I don't even know what you look like."

"Yeah but…that Eric guy is too busy to talk to me, and I don't want to put up with people just yet."

"…That's pathetic. Is that why you're still making a fuss?"

"Kind of. I'm not quite over my parents yet, I think…" Mello thought of his own and scowled at nothing.

"Yeah…okay."

"Mello…last question, I promise."

"Yeah?"

"Will uh…" He pauses, and Mello marked his page, holding the bible open with his bare foot as he pulled his hair around and began braiding it. Ridiculous, that it'd gotten that long.

"Will you read to me?"

"Read you the bible?"

"Yeah." Mello smiled a bit at that. No one had ever willingly asked him to talk about religion…something that he had a love for, despite his flaws. He'd long ago accepted that he was going to hell for liking boys, but he decided it didn't matter. There was a lot to love about Christianity…he'd come to appreciate it even more once his inevitable damnation was no longer being thrown in his face.

"Yeah sure Matt…I'll read to you."

XXXX

Another week passed. Matt calmed down enough that they unlocked his door, but he steadfastly refused to come out yet. Mello began to sit at his door and talk to him. They still avoided each other like the plague…Mello had no desire to meet Matt in person. He seemed to understand this, because he didn't want to meet anyone…period. They fell into a schedule soon. They took turns using the bathroom at the end of the hall, alternating shower days.

Mello still came and sat beside his door…they talked about Mello's classes, and Mello warned him off some of the more boring ones. Matt helped him with his programming homework…the kid really was amazing with computers. Once Mello told him the concept, he practically did his homework for him.

Then one day Matt brought up the clothier. Mello shifted uneasily, but didn't change topics.

"So Penny, she walks up to me right, and drags out this huge rack of clothes! I just said I liked stripes and she walks in with this like…Hot Topic heaven on hangers, I swear."

"Hot Topic?"

"Yeah, it's this Semi-goth clothing store from America…they cater to punks like me."

"Oh."

"So anyway, I was like freaking out I was so happy. My…my parents never let me wear what I wanted…it was always semi-business with them." Mello had gathered that Matt's parents weren't exactly neglectful…just busy. They were important business people, always moving around or gone on trips. They often drug Matt along, and that's why he was good with machines.

"And then, I like came back from my shower, and that entire rack was in my drawers."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah man, no lie. The entire rack! Even my jeans are ripped for me." Mello chuckled, his mind flashing back to that…outfit. That last hanger in the sea of black.

"I haven't been back there since I got here back in August."

"Dude, you should go back. They'll give you anything you want, just about. I even got a pair of goggles!"

"I'm not…big on clothing. It doesn't really matter to me."

"How do you express yourself then?"

"I…I don't know. I wear my rosary."

"Oh…you're catholic?"

"Yeah Matt."

"You pray like a Catholic?"

"Yeah."

"In Latin, really?"

"Yes Matt I do."

"That's wicked." Mello cast an incredulous stare over his shoulder. This kid got out about as much as he did.

"Well, I'm going to bed, Matt."

"Yeah, okay. Hey Mello, instead of reading to me, why don't you say a prayer? You know… in Latin or something."

Mello frowned at the door. "You want me to pray with you?"

"Um…yeah sure. If it's not too personal or anything." Mello shook his head in surprise. Was it personal? How could Christ be personal?

"Well…I don't know how to without…um…" Mello could hear the sudden apprehension in his voice.

"Do I have to open the door?"

"Uh…no, no it's fine. Just…put your hand on it. Beneath the doorknob."

"Okay, now what?" Mello put his bible down and turned to face the door, his crucifix in one hand, his other on the wood.

"Okay. Just…close your eyes and think. I'll translate when I'm done."

"Wicked." Mello had to smile. He closed his eyes and spoke quietly.

"Pater Noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen."

"Okay…I didn't just sell my soul or anything did I?"

"Define sell. I said: 'OUR FATHER, Who art in heaven hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil. Amen."

"…Wicked." Mello chuckled and shook his head.

"Go to bed Matt."


	6. The Problem

AN- I think I started this story just so I could write this chapter. I mean really, it makes me happy. Thank you for reading, all of you. Next chapter should be up tomorrow. - Kani

Mello finally went back to the clothier. He supposed that if he were damned, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to indulge himself this once. He'd repent later. Penny, the strict-faced woman, was still at the desk reading. Mello walked in, his rosary tight in his fist, and the other hand deep in his pocket, wrapped around a miniature bible that Roger gave him for Christmas. It was the size of his palm, and the edges of the pages were already turning black. It was the best present he'd ever gotten in his small number of Christmases.

"Oh, hello Mello…" She offered him a smile, and he dropped his eyes. Still not used to that.

"I uh…I wanted to look at the clothing again…if you don't mind."

"Sure thing. Black right?" Mello nodded, still a little overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of clothing he was surrounded by. In no time at all, the rack was before him again. His eyes shifted to the right end, and his heart sounded sadly. The hanger, and his coveted outfit, was gone.

He moved forward, thumbing the through the rack and a huge grin split his face as he found it a second later. More clothes had been added, and his had just been pushed towards the middle. He pulled it back and ran his fingers down the soft leather, eyes wide. The cold zipper of the vest tickled his fingertip, and he turned to Penny.

His smile died instantly. She looked at him sadly, shaking her head. "Such a beautiful smile to hide away from the world, Mello."

"Thank you, but I'd rather not. May I have this one?"

"Of course. We have a few variations of that style as well…I'll have them sent to your room."

"Just the one, please…I'm not…not even sure I can wear it yet." She smiled knowingly.

"I'll have them sent anyway."

XXXX

Mello stared at himself in the mirror, absolutely terrified. He kept waiting for the lightening to fall, for the wrath of God to strike him down where he stood. He turned a slow circle, smoothing the leather over his hips. He looked…good. Fantastic.

His hair was still much too long for his taste, the braid hanging just between his shoulder blades now. He'd gained bit of weight, and looked healthier than he ever remembered himself being. There were faint tan lines left over from the summer tanks he used to wear, but the vest covered them nicely. He'd always been on the pale side anyway…

The vest was just a little short for his liking…it showed a few inches of his stomach and the small of his back. He supposed it was really the pants' fault, because they slung low, exposing the fine curve of his hips.

He looked sinful. That was not what bothered him. A hot blush rose in his cheeks when he realized that he…enjoyed it. It was nice…to look good like this. Roger had long told him that there was a difference in pride and confidence.

Footsteps sounded up the stairs, and he panicked. He yanked the sheet back over the mirror and began changing. There was a knock at his door, and he froze, heart in his throat.

"Hey Mello…I start classes next week, okay?" Oh God, it was just Matt.

"Yeah…Okay." At least Matt wouldn't open his door. He slipped out of the forbidden outfit and threw his normal clothes back on. "What are you taking?"

He reverently folded his leather and hid it in the bottom drawer of his dresser. It was winter still, just barely January, and after a month of confinement, Matt had decided to ask for classes. Still months until he tried to wear the outfit. Months and months until it was warm enough to even consider it. He had time…he had plenty of time.

His hands were still shaking as he gathered his things for a shower.

"And then I'm considering taking graphic design, just for fun you know?"

"Yeah Matt."

"And maybe advanced coding, because I'm definitely bored in generic and CSS."

"Okay."

"Are you okay Mello? You seem distracted."

"I'm fine…I just need to take a shower."

"Oh." There was a moments silence and then a door closed. "Okay, I'm in!"

Mello opened his door without bothering to check, because Matt had yet to lie to him. He'd been talking to the boy for a little over a month now, everyday, and he still had no idea what he looked like. It was kind of fun. All he had to go by was his voice, and the scribble of his hand writing from the few times he'd helped on the homework Mello slid under the door. The agreement was an easy one, unspoken and honor-bound.

Until next week, when he started classes. Mello felt a sliver of worry thread through his mind…would everything change then? A few of the older children had already guessed at his deviance…but he was fairly good at hiding his soul's crimes. That platinum haired boy….Near…he knew. He'd known the second their eyes met, and that was what had frightened him. People that intuitive frightened him like no other, because he could not hide from them. Here, he could pretend to be normal, live his life like there was nothing wrong, and he was eternally grateful to Roger for it.

Near managed to strip that newfound happiness from him with a single glance. Near knew. Mello didn't know how he felt about it, but Near knew, and that was bad enough.

"Mello?"

"Oh, sorry…just thinking."

"What, you pray before showers too?" Mello chuckled and kicked the door in passing.

"Only on Sunday, Matt."

XXXX

"Mello?"

"Yeah?"

"Things aren't gonna change are they?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's just that…we're friends and all, but we've never seen each other."

"Yeah, so…"

"You said when I first talked to you that when I came out, you likely wouldn't hang out with me anymore."

"What's your point?"

"Well…did you mean it?"

"…"

"Mello?"

"I don't know Matt."

"Mello?"

"Yeah Matt?"

"I hope they don't. I don't want to walk out of here alone, you know? That's…that's how I came in."

"I'll try. I can't promise any more than that."

"Anything I need to know before we finally meet?"

"Yeah."

"What?"

"Don't ever, under any circumstances, touch me. Ever."

"You phobic about it?"

"In a manner of speaking…"

"…Yeah, okay. I can do that. No touchy de' Mello."

"Matt…you're weird."

"Yet you keep coming to my door."

"Ah yes, but I always leave it too."

"Bitch."

"Geek."

XXXX

Mello was approaching panic. He paced his room, thinking frantically through his situation like if he thought of enough alternatives one would magically make itself happen. It didn't go as planned however, because when first sunlight hit his bed, and he knelt to say his morning prayer, the clock just kept going.

He threw himself on the window sill in disgust. People knew…it wasn't so bad all the time. Yeah, he got the occasional gay remark, but usually from people that didn't like him for other reasons…like his fists. The worst of it came from that boy he'd hit with the chair his first week at Wammy's. That grudge never did die down. Ever.

Still…he didn't act gay. He didn't look gay, aside from maybe his hair, but he kept that braided, and as soon as he procured a pair of scissors, that'd be gone too. He didn't sound gay when he talked, he didn't flirt with anyone, and he _never_ touched another person, male or female.

Still…some people knew. Like Near…some just intuited it. One girl he asked about it said it was the way he moved. He was too graceful, too…quiet. Boys weren't supposed to be quiet; they were supposed to be loud. He forgot to ask her how body language could be loud. So he'd started paying attention, and noticed it right off the bat. He was…lithe…though he thought that came more from his self-consciousness than his sexual preference.

He clutched his rosary in a fist as he watched the sun come up.

Matt would either know or he wouldn't. Mello had no intention to tell him. That being decided, he rose quietly, pressing a kiss to his rosary for luck, and slipped his boots on. Shouldering his back pack, he slipped out to lean on the door frame, trying to collect himself and put on the same mask he wore with the other children…cold, distant, and slightly deranged.

He knew without seeing it that it was pathetic. Matt had heard him laugh, made him smile. He was the only one at Wammy's and he didn't even know it. Internally Mello groaned to himself…how was he going to explain his sudden change in attitude when he got downstairs? Damn it.

The door had opened, and he was so lost in his thoughts he hadn't even noticed.

"Hey." His eyes snapped up, and he froze, heart in his throat. Denim vest, purple-striped long-sleeved shirt, a green watch, green goggles around his throat, crimson hair, and shockingly green eyes.

Not what he'd expected. Not at all.

His backpack slipped to the floor, and a fist came to his rosary. Without another word, and his heart roaring in his ears, Mello turned and fled. That familiar voice called from over his shoulder but he was taking the stairs two and three at a time, flying in his terror.

"Mello? Mello, what is it? Hey!" He hit the landing and didn't stop, his boots skidding slightly on the wooden floor.

"ROGER!!!" He could hear footsteps behind him, and oh Christ, why was he FOLLOWING!

"Roger, damn it! Where are you?!" He blew past Eric, who just happened to recognize the blonde braid and called that he was in his office. Mello swung right so hard that his rosary flew over his shoulder to hang down his back.

XXXX

Roger was sitting at his desk, reviewing a file when his door flew open and slammed shut again. Pressed against it, looking like Satan himself was on his tail, was a trembling Mello.

"Mello?" What's wrong?"

"Everything Roger. I want him gone, I want him off my hall, on the opposite side of the house!" Roger watched as he began pacing, and it was like Mello had just arrived, that's how uptight his was. Seven months and all that tension came crashing back, and it hurt Roger to see it. He launched into the contrition prayer, crucifix clasped in both hands just before his mouth as he did laps around the room.

_O My God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee and I detest all my sins because of Thy just punishments, but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, who art all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to sin no more and avoid the near occasions of sin. Amen._

"Mello, speak English. Who are we talking about? Eric?"

"MATT! The Computer, my hallmate, the boy across the…across the floor, I want him GONE!"

"Oh Mello, I thought you were friends. What happened? Did he touch you?"

"No….No He…"

"Does he know about…that?"

"NO…at least I hope not…Oh shit I hope not, I think I've ruined everything…"

"Mello, you've got to calm down and talk to me." Mello stood still staring at the old man with utter fear in his eyes.

"You don't understand…I was doing so well…I was fine, I was…better…"

"Mello. _What happened_?"

Mello's eyes fell to the floor, and he flinched when Matt's worried voice echoed down the hall.

"Mello? Where are you?"

"Mello, talk to me. What's wrong?"

"I…I met him, Roger…and…"

"And?"

"And…he's beautiful…"


	7. Confession

AN- To answer the questions, I have been terribly ill the last few days, and have nothing else to do. This story has kind of bitten in and won't let go. Shades of Grey is taking a while to update, because I want to take my time with it...make it as good as I can. This one is just coming naturally, and so I'm not holding back on it. Thank you for the compliments on the updating though. I hope I continue the good service.

"Mello? Where the hell are you?"

"Shit, I have to talk to him, don't I?"

"You're the one that offered to tour him, Mello…"

"…Shit…"

"Indeed." Roger chuckled and held his hand out to young man on his office floor. He knew that it wouldn't be accepted, but the fact that he offered it meant a lot to Mello. He'd likely never accept it, but at least he knew it was there…if he needed it. He picked himself up and straightened his blue jeans nervously.

"You look fine."

"Shut up Roger!" Roger grinned wider, trying to hide in under the pretense of smoothing his mustache. Mello pushed his bangs back, glancing at the door, and then back at the old man.

"What do I say?"

"I get the feeling that telling him the truth is out of the question." Mello just gave him a look, and Roger chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. "In that case, I have no idea, son. You're a genius though…I'm sure you'll think of something."

"MELLO?!"

"He sounds pretty upset…go on now, don't make him late." Mello nodded, and took a deep breath. Then he strode over to the door and threw it open.

"Matt?" Roger watched him shut the door and just sighed to himself, returning to his forgotten papers.

XXXX

"Mello, what the fuck was that man?!"

"I'm sorry, I just…"

"You just what?!"

"Wasn't…ready. To see you. Sorry." Matt growled and shoved his backpack at him.

"You brought this?"

"Well yeah…I know it seems like a nice thing, but my exact train of thought was that you'd have to come back for it eventually."

"Matt…we're so alike, it's scary."

"Yeah I know. Kinda funny really…"

"What?"

"I didn't have you pegged as a blonde…or being that small…" Mello glared over his shoulder at him, but he was right. Matt was almost a foot taller than he was, lanky and slender. He made Mello feel little, at least until he got another look at those amazing eyes…

Father Forgive.

"Hey wait up a second!" A hand clasped his shoulder and Mello flinched, ripping it off.

"Matt, I said don't touch me."

"Right, Right…I'm sorry…I just don't want you running off again." Mello crossed himself in his frustration, something he solely did when he was unable to think clearly. It used to help. Now it didn't…he stopped walking at that revelation.

Had he fallen that far?

No of course not. So this kid was (beautiful) attractive…that didn't mean he was losing his religion. God forgave the devout, and there was no denying his faith. Mello was repentant, sworn to keep his filthy hands to himself in hopes of regaining God's favor. He would not stray, and he damn sure wouldn't fall when the first cute boy walked by. No.

"Fucking Hell, what a day…" Matt gave him look.

"Mello, it's not even seven yet."

"…That just further proves my point." Mello sighed and stopped walking again, holding his cross to his lips and hugging himself as he thought. In his opinion, if everyone carried a rosary, they wouldn't need to rub their temples when they were stressed. "You know what…screw this. We're skipping today."

"Huh?"

"We're not going to class. Let's just dump our bags in the library, I'll give you the tour, explain everything, and then I'm just gonna relax for the rest of the afternoon. Hell, a bath sounds nice." Mello was walking again, talking more to himself than Matt. "A bath, and then I'll read the new testament, and I'll have dinner in the library and…"

"Mello?"

"Hmm?"

"You sound a little crazy when you talk to yourself like that, man."

"That is exactly why I do it, Matt."

"Huh?"

"Let me put it this way? Would you walk up to a kid with a bible in hand, talking to himself?"

"I see your point."

"Exactly." Mello turned to find Matt grinning at him, and his stomach did this amazingly acrobatic turn. He paled a bit when he realized he couldn't look away. "Matt…don't smile at me."

"Why not?" He looked concerned, and Mello almost felt guilty for asking him to stop, but he couldn't handle that right now…

"C'mon…the library is this way."

XXXX

Four hours later, Mello was leading Matt through the double doors into the library on the west wing. In his hand were a Nintendo DS and four different games, and in his pockets were his bible, a note pad, and three pens.

"Mello what are we doing?"

"We're enjoying our day off. You…you're gonna sit here quietly, and play this goddamned game. Me? I'm gonna sit here quietly and translate the bible into Italian." _And we won't look at each other, we won't talk to each other, and I'll retain my sanity for another day._

"You know…you're a lot more uptight when people are around." _Mainly you, you spawn of satan_.

"I told you I don't like people. By the way…when you do go to class, you're likely going to get a lot of questions about us."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that the last guy that put his hands on me got a chair to the forehead. I don't like people, Matt. And you've been following me around and practically holding my hand all morning." He got a dirty look for that, but the kid didn't argue.

"You said you'd try, Mello."

"And I am. I promise, I'm doing my best. I can't help it that…I want to lock myself in my room and take manual courses now."

"Does it bother you that much to be seen with me?"

"I…no. It's not that. There's a lot that's wrong me, Matt. You'll figure it out eventually."

"…I'm trusting you, man…that's all. I'm really going out on a limb here, trying to open up a bit, you know?"

"Better than you do, Matt, I promise." He handed him the games and marched over to the window sill, claiming the entire thing to himself as he stretched out on the warm wood. Matt followed, and knocked his boots to the side, taking the other end for himself.

"So…why are you gonna translate the bible again?"

"Because frankly Matt, you're stressing me out." Mello held a hand up, cutting off he wounded reply. "Look, it's not something you're doing, or something you've said…it's just…you. I am not a people person. I could handle this when you…when I couldn't see you because it was kind of like you didn't exist. Now…I'm trying to deal with you being here. In my presence."

Mello looked out the window, but nodded slowly. "It isn't exactly easy for me either, you know…"

"Just…let me get used to it. That's what this is…me adjusting." Matt finally backed off, turning the game on and walking through the instructions.

"This is kinda cool…So, why are you translating the bible again?"

"There are some topics I need to brush up on."

"Whatever, man." Matt got comfortable, and he realized that the other boy had no intention of giving him back his leg-space. He sighed and tucked them under instead, pulling out his tablet as he began writing.

"So…you speak Italian?"

"Some. I'm English, but my family moved when I was very little."

"Cool. Damn…that's not fair." Mello, glanced up and saw that he was talking to the game, not him.

"Have you really never played before?"

"Nope…what the fuck, dude? Get your skinny ass back over here…New weapon? Sweet." Mello just shook his head and returned to his work.

XXXX

Mello couldn't relax. Try as he might, the mindless task of reciting the bible did nothing to calm him down. He fidgeted quietly, unwilling to get up and abandon Matt again, even though his every instinct was telling him to run like hell.

Matt however, was just fine. He was so relaxed, in fact, that he fell asleep there on the window sill, his head resting against the glass and his game beeping feebly at him. Mello was afraid to move and afraid to wake him.

But perhaps now, he finally understood. They'd called him the devil's advocate in the monastery…along with a few other nicknames that didn't bear repeating. After a few moments of staring at the way the grey sunlight caught the red hair across from him, he sighed and turned a page in his notepad.

"I am a heretic, I have sinned." The words came easily, and he wrote them almost without looking, the bible forgotten beside his knee. This was the important message right now. This is what he needed to remember. "I have gazed upon the forbidden flesh of my fellow men with lust in my heart, and I am damned. I am a heretic, Father Forgive."

He glanced down at his page and nodded to himself, looking out the window as he kept writing the passage over and over again. The English moor was grey with winter, and the glass was cold against his shoulder. "I am a heretic, I have sinned."

It couldn't have fit his mood better. "I have gazed upon the forbidden flesh…"

Really he didn't know if he could do this. "…of my fellow man with lust in my heart…"

Be Matt's friend…his real friend. "…and I am damned. I am a heretic, Father Forgive."

What if he rubbed off on him? "I am a heretic, I have sinned."

What if Matt found out and hated him? " I have gazed upon the forbidden flesh…"

Would Matt even want to be his friend if he knew? "…of my fellow man with lust in my heart…"

Would Matt find him disgusting? Could he tolerate Mello's presence? "…and I am damned."

Would it be worse if Mello didn't tell him? If he found out later? "I am damned."

Mello couldn't tell him…he couldn't. Not when he'd…"I am Damned."

Not when he'd become friends…."I am damned."

Fuck, what could he do… "I am damned."

_I am damned_.

Mello tilted his head back and sighed, his fists clenching. He didn't deserve this…he didn't deserve a friend. He turned the page slowly, as quietly as he could.

However…he also did not deserve this.

_Christ, who art in heaven, thy will shall guide me in my time of weakness. I write this confession now because I must say it lest it tear me apart._

_Holy Father, I hate you._

_I hate you for what you've done to me. I hate you for making me beautiful and then twisting my soul into something so obscene, that you cannot bear to look at me. I hate you for making me special, giving me this mind, and giving me weakness so that Satan may play with it. I hate you for making me something amazing simply so that I can serve as an example to others in need of guidance when you cut me down. You work your will through me, set me apart that I may be seen, and use me to show others right from wrong. If that is your will…I am not to question it. _

_But I do not have to love you for it. _

_I have seen your miracles, wrought through these children I am surrounded by. I must ask myself why you would cast your greatest failure in amongst them. _

_I write this confession to ease my heart, to uphold me in my coming trials._

He paused and glanced up at Matt.

_If he is to help or hinder me on the path of your Light, than I shall accept either graciously. If he is to help, then perhaps my devotion has endeared me somewhat to you. _

_If he is to hinder, than I swear to you that I will overcome him. You made me wrong, Father, but you did not make me weak. _

_It is a strange thing indeed, to so love and loathe one's god. I will continue your good work. Perhaps you will pity me in hell, if not in life. _

_Amen._

With that, he tore the page out and balled it up in his fist. He supposed he'd burn it later…or tear it up and let the pieces fly away on the wind.

He felt better.

Father Forgive.


	8. Chocolate

AN- I was not a Mello fan until I wrote this chapter. Love love love...-Kani

Eric came in around noon with lunch…huge sandwiches, salad, and something in a cup. Mello kicked Matt awake, and he shook his head, glancing around groggily.

"Huh…aw man, I died…" He pouted and turned the game off. Mello clenched his fist tighter around the paper ball, because really, that was adorable. Father Forgive.

Eric set the trays down, raising an eyebrow at the two of them sitting together on the sill.

"I guess it kind of figures that our two most antisocial kids would like each other."

"Shut up Eric." Matt was suddenly gone in a flash of red hair and green goggles.

"Food! Hell yes! Eric, I love you man…" Four bites of his sandwich were already gone when Eric finally managed to smile. He turned to Mello, who looked away. He didn't like Eric…Eric was one of those intuitive people. At least he was kind.

"Mello…you okay?" Mello knew he was really asking if having Matt around was bothering him.

"Yeah…I'm fine."

"You sure? I can reserve the bath for you…" Mello shook his head no. He was okay…not great, not by any means, but he was…adjusting. Having someone this close to him after months of self-imposed solitude was nerve wracking. After the monastery, he'd wanted nothing more than to be locked away from the world, for both their sakes.

Not to be the case. Enter Matt.

Mello sighed and stood, heading over to poke at his salad. Eric crossed his arms. "Mello, I want you to eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

"I don't care. You need to eat."

"Must we do this dance everyday, Eric? I eat the Goddamned salad, okay?"

"Maybe I want you to eat more than the salad this time."

"Eric."

"Mello."

Matt blinked between the two of them, talking around a mouth full of ham and cheese. "What? Does he not eat or something?"

"I only eat in the mornings, Matt."

"And you didn't this morning." Eric countered.

"Do you live off prayer or something, dude? I mean really…I didn't know Latin had nutritional value."

"Matt…" Eric was laughing so hard he gave up and left.

XXXX

Mello watched Matt eat with something akin to horror and fascination. Food simply disappeared…there was a sandwich on Mello's plate not two seconds ago. Now it was gone, tucked away with frightening efficiency. Mello waited until he was sure Eric was gone before plucking a single piece of lettuce from his salad and sliding that bowl over the table too.

In exchange, Matt pushed the cup across. Mello glanced in it as he munched his lettuce and his nose instantly curled. Whatever it was, appetizing was not on the list. He pushed it back, and Matt stopped crunching through the salad long enough to ask…

"You don't like chocolate either?"

"What's chocolate?"

Silence.

"You've never had chocolate?"

"No…"

"Well that's chocolate pudding, and you're eating it. Now."

"The hell I am, Matt…you just said you didn't like it!"

"And I don't, but I'm a freak. Everyone loves chocolate."

"We're not in the same category of freak then, because I'm not touching that."

"It's chocolate pudding. Try it."

"No."

"Try it."

"NO."

"Please?" He pouted, and Mello's eyes widened. No no no no no no…He got up and walked away before he shoved his face in the bowl. Really, that face was just below the metaphorical belt, damn it.

"Mello? C'mon, man, you'll love it."

"How do you know?"

"I just do, okay?" Oh God, if he was one of those people, Mello would die.

"Matt, I won't. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me."

"Why?"

"Because you don't mean it."

"What?"

"You don't mean it. Just…nevermind. Get back here." Against his will, Mello came and sat down, shifting uncomfortably beneath those intense jade eyes.

"Now, you're gonna take one bite of that pudding. Just one. That's all I'm asking. I don't know what kind of bastards you had for parents…" Irony, sheer and complete Irony, but Mello didn't interrupt.

"…that they didn't let you have chocolate, but you have got to try it at least once. If you hate it, then you're my best friend. If you love it, then you're still my best friend, but I get full gloating privileges, and you'll eat it whenever I give it to you. Deal?"

"You're fucking annoying, you know that?"

"Sticks and Stones Mello…eat the damn chocolate." Mello hated people who got under skin like that…hated hated hated them…

Fucking hell, he was pouting again. Mello gripped his confession even tighter, and then shoved it in his pocket and picked up a spoon. He picked the bowl up, and watched in sick fascination as its contents jiggled slightly in his grip. He shook the bowl again, just watching, and Matt laughed at him.

"Oh come on, it's not gonna bite." Mello gave him a disbelieving glance and sniffed it. It certainly smelled better than it looked, this chocolate stuff. It was very rich, and wasn't too sweet…he decided to try it and actually taste it before he swallowed it, since he had planned to inhale it and say it was nasty anyway.

"Definition of a spoon. Noun. A small, round eating utensil used to transport chocolate from a bowl into Mello's mouth. C'mon already…" Mello chuckled and took the bite before he could further discourage himself.

His world tilted on its axis.

That flavor hit his tongue, and he didn't care that Matt was raising an amused eyebrow at him, didn't care that his lips were forming a blatant "I told you so". Holy fucking god, chocolate was _good_.

He let it sit there on his tongue for a minute, afraid to move lest the flavor disappear. It was thick, reminding him more of a custard or icing, but much smoother. Pudding, Matt had called it. It was…amazing. That flavor was powerful, almost smoky…more savory than sweet, and yet not. It was bitter, and complex and he swallowed reluctantly. The sugar hit his system a moment later, and yes, oh yes, Mello loved chocolate.

"Hate your parents?"

"With every breath."

"Like the chocolate?"

"Better than sex."

"Like you would know. Logic says?"

"You win. Fuck you Matt." Mello took another bite, and set the cup down, resting his chin on his arms with a dazed expression on his face. Matt mimicked him, and Mello suddenly realized that he had freckles. Light ones, faded with out the sunlight, but there they were, dusted across his nose.

"You look stoned, man."

"That shit's good."

"That's just pudding." Mello's blue eyes, widened again.

"What do you mean, 'That's just pudding.'?"

Matt smirked. "You have had real chocolate yet."

Mello quirked an eyebrow, swirling his spoon around the cup. "You're lying your ass off Matt."

"Wanna bet?"

"Nope." Mello took another bite, and completely missed whatever Matt said next as his toes curled in his boots.

"What have I done?"

"I dunno…" Mello looked down and realized that the cup was empty. He peered into his own bowl, but that one had been vanilla and thus pillaged when Matt first attacked. He felt his face twist into an unusual expression.

"Mello…"

"It's gone."

"And you're pouting."

"I am not! I don't pout."

"You do now. Come on…" Matt stood and stretched, and Father Forgive, but Mello felt great, and he let himself look. Matt reached across the table to grab his wrist, and thought better of it. "You want real chocolate?"

"I'm beginning to wonder if it's a good idea." Still, he stared longingly into his empty cup, resisting the urge to throw his dignity away and lick it. What dignity, he was a damned soul anyway. He compromised and gathered the last of it on his finger before following Matt out the door.

XXXX

Matt led him to a landing that had concession machines on it…glancing around to make sure they had what he was looking for. He fished in his pockets and brought out some change.

Mello watched with both apprehension and excitement as a thin candy bar fell from the rack and Matt dug it out of the tray. He turned and leaned on the machine as he opened it, pulling the wrapper back and holding it out.

"Sniff that, Mello." God hated him. It was official.

He leaned and inhaled once, and that scent hit him again, only stronger. His mouth watered. He reached for it only to have it snatched away.

"What the fuck, Matt? Give it." Matt looked at him seriously then.

"I have a favor to ask." Mello stepped back, suddenly wary.

"What?"

"I've listened to the bible twice through. You've spoken to me in Latin, Italian, English, and now there's something else I'd like."

"And that is?"

"I miss hearing my name. My real name. I want you to call me by my real name." Mello shook his head.

"I'll say it once…but I can't call you by it, Matt." Matt looked at him sadly, but then grinned.

"Ah well, worth a shot." He shoved the chocolate under Mello's nose again, smirking. "Say it."

"Mail."

"Little louder, it's the last time I'll ever hear it."

"Mail, I want that fucking chocolate." And he got it. The flavor was twice as strong in this little bar, and Mello just held it on his tongue and let it melt.

Maybe God didn't hate him.

Matt just crossed his arms, grinning. "And now you are my bitch, because I can afford chocolate. It's the little things…I swear…"

Mello's voice was almost reverent as broke off another piece with a crack. "Not your bitch…"

"Yeah, Yeah, denial. C'mon, I want to see if I can beat that game you gave me."

"Hey Matt?!"

"Yeah?"

"Could you, uh…buy another one? You know…for later?"


	9. Change

AN- Okay, moving ahead a few months here. Mello's been at Wammy's since August, and Matt since December. Sad chapter here, But I love Matt for it. Go Matt! Next one should be up later today._  
_-Kani

_May 17__th__, 1999 _

Mello pulled his legs in from his window sill, and closed his bible for a moment. Matt knew he didn't like to be bothered on Sunday, and so he set himself up to have a full day of classes. They'd worked things out to a lesser degree…Mello was not a social person by any stretch of the imagination, and even his best friend tended to get on his nerves after a while. So, when Mello needed space, or needed quiet, Matt contented himself with games and classes.

That's not what bothered him on this Sunday. The breeze washing into his room was warm, finally. He sat on the sill, dangling a leg and reading. If Roger caught him at it, he'd likely nail the window shut, because he was on the fourth floor…but it was nice. The wind felt good on his bare arms now that he'd gone back to his tanks.

The question was…could he stand to wear a little less yet? His eyes shifted to his dresser, where the leather pants and vest had been sitting since just after Christmas. He'd tried it on again, a few times, when he was bored, or depressed. Of course, it didn't necessarily help his mood any, but it was something to do at least. Something that didn't require God or another living being.

He'd noticed that about himself…lately, he'd been a lot more honest about his relationship with Christ. It sucked, to be blunt…but he kept it up anyway, but it offered consolation that others couldn't. At least he knew Christ would never sully his hands on Mello.

He still hadn't really opened up to anyone…at all. After the first month of Matt tagging along behind him, he'd managed to put his paranoia down a bit and had gotten back to his usual stand-offish persona. Matt noticed immediately that the Mello around the house was not the Mello beside his door, but he never said anything about it. He just followed, chatted, and snapped back when Mello finally got fed up with him. It was strange at first, to have someone tell him he was out of line. It annoyed the hell out of him. Still it was Matt, and so he tried. He must confess however he thoroughly enjoyed incensing his gamer until the freckles disappeared as his cheeks reddened. His gamer. Damn, Father Forgive.

Matt still didn't know, and Mello thanked God for the small favors. Still…it was only a matter of time, because whether Mello liked it or not, he was fond of his friend and they were growing closer. Neither of them wanted to, and they were content with this half-friendship they'd formed. It really couldn't be helped, because they were so much alike. Mello never thought he'd find a friend, but he couldn't help but feel he was lying to him.

He'd find out eventually. Mello just had to maintain his distance until then. Losing a friend couldn't hurt too badly if it was only half a friend, right?

Oh Mary, he hated himself sometimes.

He hopped off the sill and kicked his boots off. Moments like this he wished that he had a lock on his door, because his little indulgences never failed to set him on edge. Matt was in class…it was going on eleven in the morning, and lunch wasn't for another hour or so. He was fine.

He pulled off his tank and opened the drawer with his foot. The tank landed on the bed, and he stripped quickly, muttering the prayer of contrition. He held his breath and pulled the leather over his legs with a quiet hiss. The laces hated him today, but he finally beat them into a submissive knot. He shrugged into the vest like it was the most natural thing he'd ever done, relishing the feel of the leather coming snug around his ribs as he zipped it shut. He reached into the drawer and pulled out a pair of gloves he'd found while trying to find Matt's birthday present back in February. Sleek black leather, full fingered and limber enough to comfortable. He slipped them on and took a deep breath.

He felt…better.

Much better.

He began pacing, basking in the way the leather moved with him, as though made for him to wear. He paused at that thought. He wouldn't put it past Wammy, actually…he shrugged and continued his tour about his room.

After a moment, he returned to the dresser and ripped the sheet off the mirror. His breath caught. He'd grown. In the six months or so since he'd first gotten the outfit, he'd gotten taller. A full hands-breadth of skin was bared around his stomach now, from bottom of his navel to the top of the leather, and it made him blush. The small areas that were loose when he'd first put them on were well fitted and smooth, molding to the contours of his legs and hips.

His shoulders had broadened slightly, and the vest made them look slender, whereas before he'd come across as puny, or weak. The gloves fit him now, and when he kicked his boot back on he felt…powerful. He looked powerful. What's more, he looked damn good, and powerful. It made him smile. He leaned back on the dresser at the foot of his bed, looking himself over with a smug grin.

God was a sadist, to make him gay. He had to be.

"Hey Mello!" The blood froze in his veins at the pounding footsteps coming up the stairs. Only one person ran up those stairs.

"Mello, you up here?"_No, No I'm not…shit…_

He didn't have time to change…hide in his closet? Too much stuff, he'd break something and then have to explain himself. Hide in bed, pretend to be sick? No, he never got sick, and Matt knew that.

Shit…

"Mello! Hey Mello, I've got tell you about…" The door opened, and voice died. So did some small inconsequential piece of Mello's soul, but he'd recover…really he would…

Mello decided not to look at him. Instead he sent up a silent prayer, his eyes closed.

_Touche, Father. _

"Hot damn Mello, who is it?"

"Huh?"

"The girl? Who is she?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh don't you dare you bastard." Matt laughed and strode over to him, ripping his arms away from his stomach and giving him the once over. He let him go before Mello could even protest the touch, grinning from ear to ear. "Come on…tell me. Is she cute?"

"Matt, what the fuck…"

"Who are you all dressed up for?!" Matt shifted hi goggles to the top of his head and stole Mello's desk chair to straddle.

"Matt, I'm not!"

"You're not?"

"No…I just…" Mello died off, wondering why he hadn't fallen over dead yet. Was he not praying hard enough?

"You've just been wooing this chick behind my back, haven't you? Ha, I didn't think you had it in you, man. Wicked. So, spill. Who is she?" Mello contented himself to count to ten, clench his leather-clad fists, and try not to kill his best friend.

"There is no girl, Matt. I just…"

"You just what?"

"…like…the outfit. That's all…" _Can I die now, Father? Mother Mary, you'll listen to me won't you? Now? …..Now?_

Matt regarded him quietly, and Mello wrapped his arms around his bared stomach again, staring at some random point on the wall.

"….No."

"Huh?"

"You can't wear it."

"Why not?" Mello felt a flash of fear…did it not look good on him?

"Because you don't mean it."

"Huh?"

"Well, it looks good and all, if you're going for the whole 'Christian gone Wrong' angle…but you don't have the attitude to pull it off."

"The Hell I don't!"

"Hmm…you're right. You're just too scared to do it."

"…What the fuck Matt?"

"Well, you are. You wouldn't walk out the door in that get up, and you know it."

"…I would…eventually."

"You're gonna get your ass kicked if you do, Mello." Mello stared at him incredulously.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Mello…C'mere." Mello froze. Matt waved at him impatiently. "Get your skinny ass over here, let's go!"

Mello walked over, and Matt stood up slowly pointing. "That…that is exactly what I'm talking about."

"What?"

"You walk like this Mello." Matt demonstrated, walking with his head down, his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched.

"I do not."

"Mello, you walk like someone's about to hit you. I swear man, if you didn't look so pissed all the time, you'd be gettin' jumped every corner you walked by."

"Matt, you know better."

"Yeah I do, but then I'm in the only in Wammy who has that luxury, alright? You gotta get some confidence man…I don't know where you came from, but you're not there anymore. Get over it."

"Get over it?"

"Yeah…like you told me. My parents are dead, I've got no one left, and I'm here, so I needed to get over it. And you know what? I did." Matt pulled his goggles down around his throat and ran a hand through his hair.

"You like that outfit, right?"

"…Yeah."

"A lot, I can tell, or you wouldn't have answered." Mello bit his tongue, staring hard at the bible he'd left on the bed. He hated it when Matt went crusading like this.

"So try again. Look me in the eye and walk over here."

"Matt…"

"What?"

"Get out."

"Huh?"

"I'm serious Matt…just go. I don't want to do this right now." Mello looked up, and his fist wrapped around his rosary as Matt's expression shifted to anger. The bright color in his cheeks came back, his freckles fading beneath it, but Mello didn't care right now.

"Mello…I don't understand you man. I really, really don't." Matt headed for the door, and Mello cringed inside, because Matt was furious. He was a quiet-angry kind of guy, the only one that Mello knew, and he didn't like it. It made it worse. He paused in the door, and those brilliantly green eyes pegged Mello to his spot.

"I think you should wear it. Grow a fucking backbone, and be real, Mello. I'm sick of being pushed off because you're too chicken-shit to admit I'm right about you. You enjoy it…why not wear it? I don't understand half the shit you do, but it's really starting to get under my skin, you know?"

"Matt, I'm trying…"

"Maybe that's not good enough, Mello. You'll be _trying_ four years from now. Just get the fuck over it and _DO_ something. Stop trying, and just do it."

And now Mello was angry.

"Matt, if you had any fucking clue what you're talking about, you'd have just dropped it when I asked you to. I'm not asking you to understand, because God knows, that's the LAST thing I want. Just be my friend this once, and let it go."

"This once? Are you kidding me? I've let _everything_ go, Mello. I don't know anything about you, and you're still the only friend I have."

"Matt…please." Matt stared hard at him then, and Mello hated it when he did, because Matt was the one person he couldn't look away from. "Please, just let it go."

"Mello…There's nothing wrong with being happy. Maybe when you figure that out, we can actually be friends. I'm getting sick of settling for less, you know?"

"Yeah…I know."

"I don't know what happened to you, but I was serious when I said that you're my only friend. That kinda makes you my best friend too."

"Yeah…I know, Matt."

"I don't think you do, Mello. I really don't."

"I told you I would try."

"Yeah, and six months ago, that was good enough. I trust you, man…Is it too much to ask for you to trust me too?"

"Easier said than done. You knew in the beginning what it would be like, Matt." Mello turned around and gathered his clothes into a pile on the bed.

"Yeah…I know. But Mello?"

"What?"

"Try Harder."


	10. Trust

AN- I'm so proud of Mello. Baby steps, love, Baby Steps. Also a bit of forshadowing! (dramatic music) With love! -Kani

Mello was reading at his desk when his door opened again. He was still head-to-toe in black leather, but he was still angry. It was a matter of who, however…because Mello really didn't know which of them he was mad at.

"Mello?"

"What?"

"I uh…wanted to apologize. Not because I was wrong…it just…wasn't my place."

"…More your place than anyone else's Matt."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Cool." The door shut and he glanced into the mirror to see Matt stretching out on his bed. He always took a shower when he was mad…his hair was still wet, and the stripes were blue and black now, a shirt with cut-off sleeves and blue fingerless gloves. God hated him. He went back to reading his bible. Matt didn't comment on the fact that he was still wearing the leather…Mello personally thought he was doing it as a form of self-punishment.

"Hey, Mello?"

"What Matt?"

"Can I cut your hair?" Mello looked at him in the mirror, and he added hastily. "You've been talking about it since I met you, and I've been cutting my own since I was seven."

"…Well, that explains things." Matt chucked the pillow at him, and Mello just smirked. "I don't know Matt."

"I know you have a hard time with people touching you and stuff…I just know it's never gonna happen if you don't let someone else do it."

"…True. You also want to know if I trust you enough to let you do it."

"…I hate it when you do that."

"I know. I'm good at it though." Matt flipped him off in the mirror, and Mello put his bible down and crossed his arms, staring at him. Matt looked away after a minute.

"I hate it when you do that too." Mello didn't let up, waging mental war with himself. Matt had offered to do a lot of stuff…let him skip a day and bring his assignments to him later, read the bible to him for a change, and he always had a chocolate bar when Mello was in a particularly bad mood. He was a good friend.

He made Mello feel like shit.

Did he trust him with this? He'd figured out by now that homosexuality was not some raging disease, threatening everyone in his vicinity. It was just a desire, like all the others, and he could control it just as well, if not better than the others because of his time at the monastery. Mello had an unspeakable amount of self-control.

But even that had been slipping since he came to Wammy. His devotion hadn't failed, but the fear had eased up a bit…he found himself making decisions easier, even acting on impulse on occasion. To everyone else, he hadn't changed a bit, but he felt it. He could feel the difference, and he felt better. More his own person than he ever had in his life.

He still prayed, still asked Father for forgiveness, and tried to regain his favor. The day he stopped was the day he burned his rosary.

_Try Harder_.

Maybe he should. Yeah…okay, he should. He trusted Matt…that was something he should be proud of. He trusted Matt.

That wasn't the problem. He didn't trust himself. He gripped his rosary a little tighter. Matt finally looked back at him, and his expression fell instantly.

"Aw Mello, never mind. Don't worry about it okay? I shouldn't push like that…especially not after earlier." Mello glanced at himself and realized that he looked fairly upset…angry. He smoothed his features by sheer force of will and cleared his throat.

"No, it's fine. I just…I don't know." Mello pulled his braid around and pulled the leather off of it, undoing it slowly. Matt's face lit up.

"You mean it?"

"Fuck, why not? I'm sick of it anyway." Mello paused, glaring at his friend in the mirror. "This doesn't mean you can touch me."

"What am I gonna do? Hug you? I'm not stupid…. Grab the brush." Mello nodded and Mat moved to sit on dresser. He reached forward and hauled Mello's chair back until he was seated in front of him, a knee on either side. Mello tensed instantly, he couldn't help it, but there was a chair between them. Matt wasn't touching him in anyway. He could do this.

"Knock yourself out, kid." He flipped the length of his hair over the chair, and crossed his arms. Matt took a minute to brush it out.

"Now don't expect something salon quality, alright? I'm a guy, and I don't do this all the time. Not like it's a hobby."

_Don't worry, you're not the gay one in this situation, I promise._

Mello kept his mouth shut.

"How short do you want it?"

"Chin length or so." Matt nodded and measured accordingly. Mello froze the second his fingers grazed down his cheek, trying not to shove him off and run like hell. Matt paused, frowning, and took his hands away.

"Give me your gloves."

"Huh?"

"I saw that look Mello…just give me your gloves." They traded off, Mello holding Matt's in a fist while the other slipped the leather ones on. This time, when he measured again, it wasn't so bad.

"Better?"

"Yeah…"

"They really did a number on you, didn't they?" Mello wanted to pull away then, wanted to throw him out and never let him back in. He couldn't move though, because the scissors were slipping along his jaw line. Instead he gritted his teeth, growling.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I'm not trying to start a conversation…just thinking out loud. It kinda pisses me off, that's all." The scissors clicked shut, and Matt set the hair down next to him. The rest of it was pulled aside as he inspected the cut, judging how it looked. "You're right…it does look better short. Okay, sit up straight and don't move."

Mello complied and watched as the stack of hair slowly grew…it really had gotten much too long. Matt hurried, but took the time to make sure he was doing a good job. He knew Mello was uncomfortable, and wanted it over with quickly. It'd seemed like a good idea, but now that he was here, doing it, it was a little more intimate than either of them liked. Mello started mumbling a prayer, and Matt rolled his eyes, reciting the last few lines with him.

_I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to sin no more and avoid the near occasions of sin._

Mello looked up in surprise. "When did you learn that?"

"You say it all the time…what is it anyway?"

"The Pray of Contrition."

"So…you say it when you do something wrong?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Like saying 'I'm Sorry' to God." Mello opened his bible again. Matt frowned, but didn't say anything. A few moments passed in silence, and then Matt moved around front, drug a brush through the hair at his forehead and cut the bangs.

"Kay, done." He stepped aside, and Mello leaned forward. It was a better than the hack-job the priests had given him. The tension drained from his shoulder once Matt was again an arm's length away, but he was proud of himself. At least ten minutes, and he hadn't panicked or done anything wrong. He smiled then.

"So, why were you apologizing for having your hair cut?" The smile died.

"…Don't worry about it. Thanks." Matt rolled his eyes and threw the decimated ponytail in the trash.

"Whatever, man." He flopped down on Mello's bed again. "Read to me? I'm tired."

"Read what?"

"Old Testament…I'm in the mood for some fire and brimstone." Mello threw his gamer the gloves and flipped pages. He paused and sighed. His gamer. Damn. Father Forgive.

Mello's gloves went sailing past his ear and hit the mirror…he left him there and found a good starting place. "Matt, why do you want me to read to you when you're tired?"

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies."

"If you fall asleep on my bed, I'm chopping your hair off."

"…I'd kill you."

"No you wouldn't."

"I'd never give you chocolate again."

"I could buy it myself."

"It's so much better free though…"

"…Shut up Matt."

"Hey, did you hear about that guy coming next week?"

"What guy?"

"He's like some super-genius or something that graduated from here…supposedly the best detective in the world."

"Oh."

"They didn't tell you?"

"No…why does it matter?"

"Well…Eric said he'd want to talk to you."

"Talk to me? Why?"

"Hell if I know, he just did."

"Whatever then. Do you remember where we left off?"

"…Not a damn clue." Matt grinned. "I fell asleep."


	11. Meeting L

AN- Warnings for this chapter... a pissed off Near. If you can imagine that. I think this is the only thing that would...I just...I dunno. This chapter is scary. Near is not homophobic, he just...intensely dislikes Mello. And vice versa. I am not responsible for teaching you how to insult people in Latin. I has nuffin to do wif it. Iz innocent. With love- Kani.

"Eric, if meeting this man was so important, why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Don't worry…you're not the only one we kept in the dark, Mello." The blond glared up at the man, not at all satisfied with the answer. He'd just been pulled from class to meet this world renowned detective, and while everyone else was bending over backwards with envy, he frankly couldn't give a shit. He was behind in his work already.

"That's hardly comforting Eric."

"Who cut your hair, Mello?"

"Matt."

"You two have gotten pretty close huh?"

"No. That's the irony of the situation." They came to the library where he'd been introduced to chocolate and he smiled a bit behind Eric's back. Okay, so he lied a little…Father Forgive.

Eric opened the door and spoke quietly for a moment before stepping aside to let Mello through. Roger turned and froze. He'd yet to see Mello's new look and it made him decidedly nervous to wait on his reaction. His hand instinctively wrapped around his crucifix.

A moment of silence, and then Roger smiled gently at him.

Thank God.

"Gentlemen, I'd like to you meet Mello." Mello noticed the other people in the room for the first time, and his eyes were drawn to the figure in white.

Near.

Shit.

"Roger what is this?"

"It's important Mello, and that's why you're going to tolerate him, understood?" Mello glared at the pale figure, feeling that coldness settle into the center of his being again. He tore his eyes back to the two people he'd glossed over, and paused again. The older man reminded him of Roger…they could have been brothers. The younger…was strange. Not like Near was strange, but…different. He sat in his chair as though he were ready to jump from it. He offered a small smile, and Mello was reminded of Near with those eyes…dark and magnetic.

"Roger, what's going on?"

"You've been brought here because L wanted to meet you."

"You've caught up to me, Mello." Near's voice almost drove a stake of panic into his chest, it was so unexpected and so thoroughly un-wanted. It was quiet, reminded him of a priest at the monastery, and he never, ever wanted to hear it again.

"Caught up? Was I behind?"

"Rather, you just hadn't proven yourself yet." The thin man in white said as he stepped off his chair. Mello gripped his cross just a bit harder, and felt that paranoia he'd been hiding behind his leather start to weave its way back in. His confidence was steadily deteriorating, but he put up a brave front.

Roger noticed the tension easing back into his shoulders, and explained quickly. "L is a powerful man, Mello…he wishes to find an heir to his work. He's an incredible detective, and we were hoping to train the next person to take his alias. Near was our most promising student…but you're pulling up close."

Mello looked back at near, and felt an unholy surge of pride when he looked away, irritation evident in his face.

"So…I've one-upped the anti-christ…fancy that."

"You haven't beaten him yet, Mello. You're coming close though." L walked over and stood before him, looking him over. "I'd offer to shake hands with you, but your file states that you hate physical contact."

"Avoid it like the flames of Hell, actually." This L person smiled at him.

"Me too." He walked a circle around Mello instead, and brought a thumb to his lips. Mello stared back. "You seem very self-conscious to be wearing such an outfit Mello."

"That's kind of the point."

"Elaborate."

"My best friend is trying to drive a steel rod down my spine."

L nodded to himself. "Yes, Matt…I've read of him. Promising computer-mind…you should suggest hacking to him."

"Hacking? That's illegal."

"Wammy is above the law simply because they helped create it, Mello. I'm pleased to have met you."

"I'd say the same, but it would be an empty sentiment. I do not know you, but my basic nature demands that I dislike you. Gay Catholic, you see. No offense."

L grinned then, turning to the elder man. "I like him, Watari."

"May I go now?"

"No, not yet. Tell me, why don't you and Near like each other." The boys in question turned their eyes on each other in a stare so heavy it might have been lead.

"He's arrogant."

"He's perceptive."

"He's rude."

"He's quiet."

"He's good."

"He's better."

"He's Catholic."

"He's Atheist."

"How did you know?"

"How could I not? You disgust me." There was an uncomfortable silence for a long moment…

L broke it. "Fascinating."

Both boys shot him a dirty look, but returned their gaze to one another quickly.

"Roger, May I go now?"

"Coward."

"Pagan filth."

"Arrogant pig."

"Albino freak."

"Roger, really, must he stay?"

"Now who's running?"

L interrupted, "If you two are quite finished…"

Both fell quiet, still glaring at each other sullenly. Mello turned to the detective again, speaking harshly. "Yeah fine…if it's means I get to show…_that_ up, yeah I'll compete for the title."

"It wasn't exactly offered to you, Mello."

"I wasn't interested in it until you opened your damn mouth, Near."

"Boys…you're beginning to annoy me." Mello snapped at the detective, eyes never leaving those soulless pits of Near's.

"Fuck you, L…this is what you wanted isn't it? Competition?"

"Oh go prance with your boyfriend Mello." Mello felt a rush of something black in his heart at those words. Near seemed to realize that he'd bitten too deep with that remark and slammed a piece of his puzzle into place with a snap.

"If you ever refer to Mail Jeevas in that manner again, I will send that pagan-damned soul of yours to hell before your next birthday."

"I won't give you the satisfaction of a witty comeback."

"Good…Because I'm fairly positive that if I were to jump, I could kick you into that fireplace before any of these lovely gentlemen managed to stop me."

"Mello!" Roger's warning went unheard as the two young men stared each other down.

"No, Roger. Let that one go. Near…I'm disappointed you would go that low for a simple reaction." Near finally turned and stared at the detective, his eyes widening with shock. L wasn't looking at him, however…he was watching Mello carefully.

"And you…I'm fairly sure that you could only manage that if you hadn't told us. Lay a hand on him now, and I'll have you expelled."

"Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio, contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium."

L merely raised an eyebrow and tilted his head towards Watari. To Mello's surprise, the older man translated easily. "St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle; be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the devil."

"So you are Catholic. I highly doubt Near is a threat to your soul." L remarked wryly.

"The only person to ever threaten my soul was me, L. I must confess however, Near makes murder sound wonderful."

"The only crime you make me ponder, Mello, is unorthodox castration."

"Misereátur tui omnípotens Deus, et, dimíssis peccátis tuis, perdúcat te ad vitam ætérnam."

_May Almighty God have mercy on you, forgive you your sins, and bring you to life everlasting._

**AN- This is usually the line given by priests at the end of confession, dispersing guilt**

Watari, the older man, frowned and spoke sharply. "That is for the priest, child."

"Even a child may bear the Righteous power when faced with the taint of heresy."

"You're one to speak of heresy, Mello. The last I heard, Catholics did not tend well to homosexuals."

"My business with Christ is my own."

"Yes…yours and-"

"Near." The single word from L cut him off, but Mello knew what had been coming next. He very carefully released his cross, before he broke it in his fist.

"Roger…"

"Yes, L?"

"Make sure that they do not kill each other before I die."

"Noted, L." The strange man stood, and Mello suddenly noticed he was barefoot. He cast a final annoyed glance between the two of them.

"I expected better out of the two of you. If I don't see improvement, I will have your study privileges revoked for a semester."

"Yes _Daddy_. Enjoy your trip." And Mello didn't ask this time, he was already out the door, his sarcasm hanging in the air. L turned to Near and watched him relax visibly, four more pieces of his puzzle clicking into place.

"I've never known someone to bother you quite that much, Near."

"He's the first person-"

"That's gotten under your skin?"

"No…that I respected. Aside from you of course... I'm glad you came to see us, L. I apologize for my temper."

"I'm glad I got to see it actually. You're doing very well, Near…don't let him discourage you."

"I won't."

"Confident, then?"

"In a manner of speaking…he's spent the majority of his life waging an internal war. Even if he does overcome that obstacle, he'll have no idea how to reign in his emotions once he frees them. His unfettered thoughts and latent ambition will rob him of common sense." L turned to glance at the white haired child by his feet.

"He's right, you know."

"About what?"

"You are perceptive."


	12. Reasons

AN- This chapter made me happy too. Enjoy it- Kani

Mello was furious. His heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that he hardly heard his own footsteps echoing down the hall. Father Forgive, but he was coming to hate that Near person. He took the stairs two and three at a time, eager to be away from his newly-confirmed enemy and the man who was apparently in control of his life.

God that pissed him off.

This L, this skinny freak, comes waltzing into his life and threatens to take away his schooling? If he didn't play nice with that homophobic, self-centered, intuitive jack-ass?

GOD, he was pissed.

Father Forgive.

He was halfway down the great hall when he realized where he was headed and why. When did Matt's idle chatter become calming? When did reading the bible aloud become calming? Son of a bitch, why did it matter? That's what he wanted, right now, he wanted to curl up on the floor and read the bible to a person he'd never lain eyes on. A little late for it, but he'd settle for reading to Matt…or maybe have Matt read to him. At this point, he no longer cared…might as well let him know he was coming, though…

He paused in the middle of the great hall and yelled.

"MAAAATTT! WHERE THE BLOODY FUCK ARE YOU, YOU LEET-SPEAKIN' GAME-ADDICT?!!!"

XXXX

Matt, the leet-speaking game-addict as it were, was sitting in the study just off the library Mello had stormed from. He'd gone there with a Gameboy and the intention of getting a peek at this detective-guy. However, L was long gone when he finally pulled himself from his video game long enough to listen…

"Shit…" They'd stopped talking. He might have missed them. Saving his game, and turning the console off, he slipped into a pocket on his way out the door. The door to the library hung open, and he cursed himself for losing his focus.

He peered in, hoping perhaps that they were still there and just…he didn't know, playing cards or something, but the only person in there was a boy in white. Like, all white, even his hair…

He sighed and turned to go.

XXXX

Mello made it to their hall, and found it empty. Matt didn't have a class right now, he should have been there. Mello even checked the bathroom, but there was no sign of green goggles and red hair. Starting to feel a bit nervous, he headed back to the stairs, pausing to call a final time, "Hey Matt?"

XXXX

"You should congratulate him." He turned back, but the boy hadn't looked up from his puzzle.

"What do you mean?"

"Mello…he's now in competition with me to take L's place." L? Oh the detective…

"Really? Sweet."

"Oh yes…Be sure to give him a good luck kiss. I'm sure he'd appreciate it." Came the response, dripping with sarcasm.

XXXX

Bloody hell, Mello was running. His side ached as he dashed across the house, passing the detective and Watari on their way out. He didn't pause to say anything, leaving the pair of them to stare after him in confusion. People dodged, and those that didn't were shoved aside as he ran Hell from high water down the Great Hall.

_God damn Matt's curiosity, Please God, don't let him be…._

XXXX

….Staring at the white haired figure before him in complete confusion.

"Dude, what are you talking about?" The pale one looked up at him with dark eyes, and Matt felt really uncomfortable when he did. He shifted from foot to foot, waiting on a reply. The kid just continued staring at him, eyes slowly widening until he looked vaguely surprised.

XXXX

And Mello hit the stairs, the air burning in his lungs. Holy God, as long as he was wrong, he didn't care how foolish he looked for bursting back in here. Just let him be wrong, let him be wrong…

XXXX

"Look, I don't know what you're on…."

XXXX

"…But Mello's not gay." Mello froze in the door way, and for a moment, it seemed his heart just stopped. Matt's words hung in the air like a sword, and he wouldn't lie if he asked, but dear God it was tempting.

Near turned to look at him, surprised etched into his feature, and his mouth fell open slightly. If the boy had any blood in his veins, he likely would have paled. The silence was gone however, and in its place was the heady roar of Mello's rage. He'd ruined everything. The little bit that Mello finally had, he'd ruined it all.

"Mello wait…" Before the words were even out, Mello was across the room. His boot connected with the pale jaw with a small yelp from the receiving end. Blood splattered across the white puzzle he'd just completed, but Mello wasn't done. He hefted the smaller boy up by the pajamas he wore…

"Why did you tell him?" Near spat blood, wiping it off his chin as he glared up at the furious boy holding him.

"I didn't have to…you just told him everything he needed to know."

"God, I could kill you now, you bloody heathen!"

"Mello, put him down! You'll hurt him!" Mello ignored the worried voice behind him to slam Near into the stone mantle.

"My Business with God…is _mine_. It is not his burden to bear. If I lose my only friend because you couldn't stand the thought of Me catching up to you…I swear before Christ and his Mother that I will bring Hell to your doorstep. I hope I've made myself clear."

He released him, and headed for the door, refusing to even glance at Matt.

"Mello? Mello what's going on? Hey!"

"Mello…" Mello paused in the doorway, fists still clenched. Near continued from the fireplace, speaking quietly. "Mello, I really thought he knew. I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't change much, Near. It's just a word. Maybe if you had a religion, you'd realize that."

XXXX

God was laughing at him somewhere. He went downstairs slowly, because really, why bother to hurry now? Despair was tightening its grip on his spirit.

"Mello?"

"Matt…you know how I told you I wasn't sure we could be friends if we knew each other?"

"Yeah."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about. I tried."

"Hey, wait. Why?" Mello turned to look at him, and found Matt's usually kind eyes distrusting, hurt. "Why didn't you just…"

"Tell you?"

"Yeah…"

"Because I didn't want this to happen."

"What?"

"The look in your eyes…the one that asking me so many questions. The one that's afraid of me, because you're just a normal, straight guy, Matt."

"That doesn't…"

"Yes it does. It changes everything." He kept walking, speaking over his shoulder as he strode the Great Hall, because really….why did it matter anymore? The one person he actually cared about knowing had just found out, and that was enough. Let them hear…let them all hear.

"It changes everything because you're no longer comfortable around me."

"That's not-"

"Matt…you've never lied to me before. Don't start now. You're probably thinking about all the times we've been close to each other, shared a window sill, or a desk…you even cut my hair. And you're running through all these scenarios to see if I've flirted with you."

"No, I'm…"

"Matt, shut up. It's a natural reaction. Even the girls do it. And when you get done with that mental checklist, you'll probably feel very uncomfortable being that close to me again."

"Mello…"

"And what you don't understand is that I've taken every precaution to not let that happen. Not just with you either…no one is allowed to touch me, I don't carry any kind of relationship with anyone…except you. I tried with you. It was great until I saw you, and let's get this all out in the open, shall we? I thought you were the most gorgeous person I'd ever met, and that's why I ran. I ran like hell, because I knew then that this could never work. You'd find out eventually, either through my mistakes, or someone else's."

"Mello, why does this have to change everything? Yeah, I'm hurt that you didn't tell me, yeah I'm surprised…but I'll get over it. We'll be fine."

"No we won't."

"Why not?"

"Because now you're going to watch your every word and movement, you'll treat me like a piece of glass, walk on eggshells…"

"I promise I won't."

"You _can't_ promise me that. You just can't, Matt. It's not that simple, and you know it."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I wanted a friendship that didn't have that hanging in the balance. For once, just once, I wanted something in my life to be unaffected by my religion and my flaws."

"It's not a flaw, Mello, it's just-"

"Matt, don't you fucking start. I am Catholic, and I've already comes to terms with myself. I don't need you to try to convince me that I'm all better now that I'm open about it."

"Mello, would you just listen to me?"

"NO! No, I won't, because I spent the majority of my life listening to people talk about my sins. I finally got here, to Wammy, and the roar died down. I could live under the shadow of my sin, but at least I wasn't being strangled by it anymore. Christ Matt, just leave me alone."

A hand gripped his shoulder, whipped him around, and before Mello could blink Matt decked him. He stumbled to the floor, a hand clapped over his mouth and bitten tongue, and kids stopped to stare. Matt was angry again.

"Upstairs. Now. We're talking this out, because I'll be damned too if you're just gonna run from me like the fairy you seem to think you are. Get up." Mello started, but he wasn't moving fast enough apparently, because Matt gripped his arm and shoved him up the first few stairs. "Get_up_."

XXXX

"Take your fucking hands off me, Matt!" Mello could feel a bruise forming beneath the tight grip just below his shoulder, but Matt ignored him. Panic started in his chest, the familiar rabbit-in-a-snare flutter, and he began fighting in earnest then. He caught Matt across the jaw, but he shoved him forward, into his room, and shook the blow off.

Mello watched him shut the door and lean on it. Then he started talking.

"Let me it put it to you this way Mihael Keehl." Mello paled at the name, a thousand unwanted memories boiling up.

"Matt Don't-"

"Shut up and listen. I've known you for six months, and I had no clue that you were gay. I really didn't. So however attractive you may have found me, you did an outstanding job of covering it up. I guess your fanatical faith was good for something after all."

Mello gripped his crucifix, stung by that.

"My point being that you hid it. You hid it well, and I was none the wiser. So yeah, let's be honest here….I'm a little freaked out. Yeah, I'm uncomfortable as hell knowing that you could have been flirting with me. What you're missing is that you _didn't_. You didn't flirt with me, Mello. You _respected_ me. Thank you."

Mello stared at him, not quite believing his ears.

"And because you respected me, I think I'll be fine. You're right, I'm straight, and while you're cute and all…I just don't think it's gonna happen, sorry. So Mihael…"

"Don't call me that…it's not the same."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I wanted that name dead, Matt. I don't want to remember that life."

"Fine. Mello. That's another thing…I'm perfectly willing to respect your privacy and space…I know you hate being touched, and since I spent the morning trying to hack your file, I have an idea of why. Gay Catholic…I can't imagine what that must be like. So don't write me off as your average kid again…I'm open-minded enough that it really won't bother me after a while. It's just…wow…six months… You're good man. You're really good."

"You hacked my file?"

"Yeah…well, kind of. I only got the first half before Wammy's security shut my computer down and killed the transfer."

"L said you should be a hacker."

"Mello."

"What?"

"Don't run off like that again. I'm not about to just let you off the hook…you're still the one person I know that doesn't get on my nerves."

"Matt…I'll try."

Matt smiled at him sadly. "Well…maybe it'll be easier now that we've nothing left to hide."

"Matt…can we never talk about this again?"

"…I won't bring it up. If you want to talk about it, that's cool, but I won't be the one to start it. That's all I can say."

"Matt?"

"What?"

"Thanks."


	13. Ballistics

AN- Muahaha...fairly important chapter here. Well...the first half. The second is just fun. -Kani

"Alright kids, welcome back to Ballistics Training Course One, Basic Firearms."

Mello picked this class the week after he accepted the challenge…no, Near's challenge. Near had made this personal, and Mello was adapting. They'd always told him that was what he was good at…adaptation, assimilation. They told him he'd do well as an ambassador, or an espionage team. He didn't think that was enough. He'd done his research since L's visit.

He wasn't at all surprised. If he hadn't met the man before studying up, he likely would have shared the same awe and apprehension that everyone else in the house had. If he'd heard the detective was there to see someone else, than he'd likely have been just as jealous.

He wasn't. Since meeting L in person, the astounding reputation the man carried just…fit. Yeah, if he'd heard first, he'd have been surprised…but something about the man took all the mystery out of it, robbed it of its mystique, and made it solid fact. So he hadn't raised an eyebrow when he read that L had single-handedly put over four thousand criminals in jail, half of which had been considered unstoppable. He hardly blinked when he read that L was responsible for cooling tensions between countries when there was a common criminal between them, working towards war. He didn't bat an eye when he read that L was on a first name basis with over half the leaders of the world, and while they didn't know his name, "Sir" was good enough.

No, he wasn't surprised at all.

He'd read up on L, then promptly dissected Near's schedule and courses. Near was taking the usual approach, criminal investigation, profiling, logic courses, and forensics. Mello skipped profiling, because he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of those perceptive stares. Damn him if he were to impose that on another person. He'd take it later if it became necessary, but for now it was on his reserve list.

He focused on the powerful side of the equation. He'd worry about catching up to Near in his own classes later…for now, it was time to establish his own base. Once he had some solid footing, he'd follow Near's schedule, but right now, he was going to work through the course listing again. He'd been taking basic classes, and now that he had a goal, he was decisively narrowing his work load. He was taking higher Maths, languages, sciences, and he'd dropped all theology courses. They were too easy on him, anyway.

He'd supplemented these with as many physical courses as he could handle. Beginners Gymnastics, How to Run, two different Martial arts, Basic Cardio…

Mello had discovered the beauty of muscle burn. The delicious sting of a body worked to its limit and then pushed until it stopped feeling at all. He began waking in the morning and doing laps around the facility, reciting his prayers as he ran. There was something gratifying about praising Christ while breaking a sweat. It was almost like repentance, but tenfold. By working, by pushing himself, he was almost proving his faith. It was bloody addictive, that languid after-burn that made his movements slow, made him appreciate every thing about his body.

Matt didn't like it…said he didn't think it was healthy for Mello to be working so hard and sleeping so little. However, after the first week of complaints, Mello drug him out of bed one morning, and made the gamer run with him. Matt never said another word. They still saw each other, but it hadn't shifted one way or the other, really. Mello's new schedule simply complimented Matt's at different times now, and they just set different meeting places. More often, after Mello's physical classes, they'd just sit there and pass out in the library together, Mello stretched out before the fire, exhausted, and Matt hanging over the edge of an armchair, sleeping simply because he could. It was comfortable…something Mello thought wouldn't be possible after…after Matt knew of his deviance.

His deviance…hmm…

Things hadn't really changed at all. He'd pulled that balled up confession out his drawer one evening and tore it to shreds. He'd said a prayer, thanked Christ for good people, and threw the scraps out his window. Matt was trying, just as he said he would, and he was doing well. Mello knew that it was easier because they'd never really be close to begin with, and they'd _never_ been physical. Matt wasn't the cuddling type, especially with other men, and Mello's first instinct was still to beat whoever was touching him until they didn't get back up.

"Alright, once you have finished cleaning your firearm, you may use the five rounds I am laying on your station. If you fail to use the safety equipment provided, you automatically fail, and re-admission is suspended for six months."

Well, then. Mello snapped his gun back together, the first one to do so, and pulled the head phones on. Donning his safety glasses, he took a step back, judging his target. He worked his shoulders a bit, accepting the ammunition from the instructor as he passed by. There were only seven kids in this class, but Mello was already on top of it. His style was singular, and while he got some strange looks, he knew the purpose it served.

Reaction time was everything. People don't stand still so that you can shoot them. He loaded his gun, stepped back again, and flipped Safety off his pistol.

"Mello, station 3, Live. First Round." He called and looked at the wall. He waited a second, until his focus adjusted, and then he stepped forward, snapped his eyes to the target dummy, and fired. Left side of the stomach, not a kill shot, but he'd hit. He nodded to himself, and stepped back again. They would let him load the clip, so he had to put each bullet in individually. He supposed that was safest, considering they were children, playing with guns.

He snapped it shut and called again. "Mello, Station 3, Round Two."

This time he focused on his shoes, the gun hanging by his side. He counted to fifteen, then snapped his head up, leveled the gun and fired. Over the shoulder…miss. He growled, reloading quickly.

"Mello, Station 3, Round Three." He looked at the kid next to him, who had just finished cleaning his gun, and was putting the pieces back together wrong. He sighed.

Snap, aim, fire.

Right Shoulder that time…low enough to be a kill shot if neglected. He nodded to himself and reloaded.

"Mello, Station 3, Round Four." This time he stayed straight on and took his shot. The gel-dummy's cheek blew away, and a small grin slid on his face. Kill Shot.

Reload.

"Mello, Station 3, Round Five." Again, straight on, his arm snapped up, sighted down the barrel…

Ripples spread through the dummy's chest, just below the heart. Puncturing lungs, causing victim to drown a moment later in his own blood. The grin grew wider…Kill Shot.

Mello rarely missed straight on.

"Mello, Station 3, Safe and Down." He set his pistol down, and immediately began dismantling it, cleaning it. To his left he heard.

"Sam, Station 4, Live. Round One."

XXXX

Mello smelled like gunpowder and leather when he left the ballistics room. He loved it. Guns made him feel powerful, more in control of his life than anything else. He supposed that was a bad omen, but ignored it anyway.

He found Matt leaning on the wall outside, eyes glued to another console game, inches from his face.

"Worth taking?"

"Oh yeah…we finally shot five today. They're building us up to a full clip I think." Matt nodded, only half-listening, and fished in his pocket for a minute. He tossed Mello a chocolate bar, and they fell into step.

"So what are you doing next?"

"Dunno…I was considering taking engineering. Learning how to build computers."

"Why would you need to build a computer?"

"So that I can build and program my own hacking devices…"

"Oh. Makes sense. I'm taking criminal culture next, I think."

"Criminal culture?"

"Yeah…studies organized crime around the world, things like that…"

"Cool, I guess."

"Useful is more like it."

"Whatever man." Mello flinched as Matt starting ranting at the game in his hands. People stopped and stared, and Mello just shrugged. After a moment, thought, when Matt looked ready to throw the small device, Mello snatched it from him. He held it up, and Matt paled as he flipped the power switch, and the screen went black.

"What the fuck…"

"Boss fight?"

"Yeah." Matt crossed his arms, trying to look surly.

"You were gonna throw it again." The look faded, replaced by a sheepish grin. Mello turned on his heel and walked off.

"What…Hey, aren't you gonna give it back?!"

"Why? So you can start the process all over again? At least wait until you're not in the middle of the hall."

Matt glanced around at the people staring, and flushed again, hurrying after his kidnapped toy. "Mello!"


	14. Time

AN- Okay, time line jumps a bit these two chapters. That puts this one...about Eleven and a half on Mello, around August. The next one is a four months later, the day before his 12th birthday. I hate it when my timeline have to jump like this! Rawr! Ahem...with Love.-Kani_  
_

_One year later…_

Mello set his book down and glanced around the room. This was his first psychology class, one on body language. It'd just opened up this semester, because the professor was new. The study he'd apprehended for a classroom was usually full of desks and benches. Apprehended was the better term however, because all of the tables were pushed against the wall and the benches were turned upside down. Instead, there were name tags on the floor for the students to sit behind. Two rows, and he assumed they'd be facing each other since the only chair in the room was between them.

He found his tag easily, setting his notebooks down before him as he knelt. He was reciting the bible in the back of his mind in a kind of sing-song and sketching pistols in the corners of his chemistry notes because he was bored, and the other students hadn't arrived.

He didn't have to wait long. They wandered into the class in twos and threes…except for Near. Mello sighed, but he supposed it wasn't really a surprise. He'd have to start taking the same classes anyway…might as well start with one they were both fairly new at.

Not that it helped his mood any. Nor was he overly thrilled when Near took the seat directly across from him. He hands tightened on his knees slightly, but he didn't bother to acknowledge the boy. Instead he closed his eyes, head bowed, and proceeded to ignore the idle chatter that filled the air. People started taking their seats, and he glanced up briefly to lock each person into place in his mind, training from another class taking over.

"Good morning everyone, and Welcome to Body Language. My name is Riley, and I'll be leading this course for the next two months." A small, round man made his way down the aisle of students and took the chair. He smiled out at the twelve of them, eyeing each one in turn.

"May I ask who among you was the first to enter the room?"

Mello raised a hand silently, resisting the urge to shift when eyes turned to him.

"What is your name?"

"Mello, sir."

"Why did you sit facing the center of the group?"

"Logic. It's a small class, and you'll want us to study one another. I'm also afraid that you have us paired with our future partners?"

"Very good." The note of distaste in Mello's voice went completely unnoticed. "Now…everyone, just as a start, what can you tell me about myself? I'd like to see where you stand. When you believe you have something, please place your hand on the floor before you. I want a theory, and an explanation please."

Immediately, Mello and Near's hands were on the wood. Mello tried not to shift again as the other students eyed him, but Near stared him down. It was suddenly much easier to ignore the other kids when those dark eyes were drilling holes into his. Near's face remained expressionless, but his voice held a smirk.

"Ladies First, Mello."

"Be my guest, then." A slight narrowing of the eyes, but he got nothing else. He raised his voice, still staring at Mello as he answered.

"You're mother was Hispanic…you have a second generation accent."

"You've injured your left-knee before…you limp."

"However, it's an American-Spanish accent, and therefore she was an immigrant."

"You can't drive because you're legally blind in your left eye. You lead with your right side when you turn, no matter the direction."

"You're Christian but not catholic…you're not arrogant enough in your faith."

"You're an early-thirty bachelor, and you don't date well."

"He's thirty-two."

"That specific, Near?"

"It's a matter of weight…why doesn't he date well?"

"He's too careless about his appearance…tan line by his watch, twenty dollar haircut, and his left shoe is untied."

"You would notice that, wouldn't you…"

The instructor stared between the two of them, almost clapping his hands for joy. Mello glanced at him for a moment, then returned his eyes to Near's, smirking.

"His mother gave him that watch." Riley leaned forward as Near frowned, gasping excitedly.

"How did you know?"

"Actually, I was bluffing." He flashed that trademark smirk at the older man, pulling his hand back. He jerked his head towards the boy across from him. "Just wanted to piss him off."

"I was told I had two Wammy Elite in my class…I think I just found them." They both turned to stare at the professor now.

"Wammy Elite?"

"Children so advanced they're limited…you don't function well in normal environments."

"…We get by." Mello just cast a side-long glance as Near answered for them both, but he didn't disagree.

"I find it interesting that your observations were mostly physical, Mello…as though you expect to fight me at some point. Near, I know you've taken psychology courses for a few years now. Since you two already know each other, will you satisfy my curiosity? What can you tell me about each other, using the other's style of observation?" The two boys returned their attention to one another and the room fell quiet again. Near spoke first, with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Are we still keeping secrets?"

"No, but I wasn't the one to give them away in the first place."

"Fair enough. Open game?"

"Deal." Near nodded, sizing him up again.

"A serious Catholic, his rosary has changed colors because he holds it when he's frustrated."

"Passive-aggressive when threatened, likely suffered some kind of abuse or trauma before he came to Wammy. He sits like that to protect his stomach."

"Knows the bible in at least two Languages…mutters it under his breath when he thinks no one is listening."

"Extremely self-conscious, denies himself company, and turns down classes with too many people in them."

"Emotionally unstable due to severe internal conflict."

"Emotionally unstable due to severe damage to his personality."

"Personality?"

"I'm thinking Post Traumatic Stress."

"…Very good, Mello. He restricts himself in all forms of contact with other people, especially men."

"He's so paranoid that even the presence of other people lowers his reasoning ability, leading him to be reclusive."

"He's homosexual, and hates himself for it. Spends half his time asking forgiveness for something he can't control."

"He hides away from everyone because he's afraid of losing control of any given situation."

"I'm done."

"Me too."

"Well played."

"Not Really. We lost."

XXXX

Mello glanced up at the knock at his door. Matt sat on the floor beside his bed, surrounded three separate laptops, two removable hard drives, a spindle of CDs with all his hacking programs on them, and a jerry-rigged Playstation. He'd been trying for almost a year now to successfully hack the Wammy House mainframe, and it'd become a sort of personal crusade. Mello allowed him use of his floor because Matt's room was unbearably dirty. One could hardly find the floor beneath all the clothes and computer pieces.

"Who is it?"

"Roger. Are you busy?"

"Fucking CSS, why do you hate me so…"

"Matt, shut up. Come on in, just watch the equipment." Mello marked his page and watched as Roger peered around the door cautiously. Matt looked up with an innocent expression, and pulled an escaping computer onto his knee, typing on two keyboards at once.

"Matt?"

"Yes sir?"

"Give up."

"No sir."

"You're wasting your time."

"It's my time to waste sir."

"You'll never break it."

"…Said Goliath to David about his own skull, sir." When Roger glanced at Mello he just held his hands up.

"At least I know he was listening. What do you need?"

"I was coming to tell you that L will be here in an hour. He wishes to see the two of you."

"…at the same time?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Damn. Very well, then." Mello swung his legs off the bed, found two empty pieces of floor for his feet, and stood carefully. Matt grunted his approval and pulled his goggles down, a sign that he wouldn't be speaking to anyone for another four hours.

"I promise he'll behave better this…wow."

"What is it Roger?" Roger eyed him fondly, arms crossed over his chest.

"You've gotten quite tall since we first met two years ago."

"I've done a lot of growing since then, that's all. I think I'll be better behaved as well, as long as he keeps his mouth shut. I've…come to terms with myself, I suppose."

"Had to happen eventually. You're too stubborn to settle for the life you were resigning yourself to."

"True. I have an hour you said?"

"Yes…I suggest you have a run or something. I won't have you kicking him into the fireplace."

"…I'd almost forgotten about that."

"I assure you, he hasn't."

"He has a good memory?"

"He can still recite our first conversation…and he's been here for almost four years now."

Mello just shook his head and leapt over Matt's machinery. The hacker-in-training gave an offended growl and herded his toys closer, away from dangerous boots and people who didn't appreciate his art.

XXXX

Mello and Near entered the library at the same time this visit. They'd met outside the doors, and after a moment of unspoken refusal to enter before the other, they'd both taken a door and come in together. L was amused, to say the least.

He was standing, this time, and judging from the way he was abusing the sugar cookie in his fingers, he was agitated.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, I just don't have long, and I have gifts for you."

"Gifts?" Mello raised an eyebrow, staring at the eccentric man. He'd received three gifts for Christmas…one each from Matt, Roger, and Eric. Receiving one from L, the greatest detective in the world? Unheard of.

"Where are you going?"

"Near, you know better. Now, come here both of you, my plane leaves in twenty minutes…" L waved them over to the chair he'd perched on when Mello first laid eyes on him. He glanced around and the Watari guy was standing over by the desk, talking to Roger about something.

L picked up a large black case and presented it to Near. It opened into two felt-board panels, one of which was hinged with about an inch of space beneath it for puzzle pieces. Mello was surprised to see him smile. Near glanced at him and immediately straightened it out…almost. The corner of his lips still curled upwards as he slung the case and strap over his shoulder wearing it like a messenger bag. L nodded and returned to the chair again.

"Now Mello, you are not allowed to have yours yet."

"Huh?"

"You're simply not of age. However, I've been watching your course work, and I thought this would be appropriate. You may use it in class if you wish." He returned with a tiny black case and held it opened it. Inside was a tiny derringer pistol, shiny and unused. Mello's own grin almost reached his ears, but he didn't care if Near saw it, because he had a gun. His own gun, his, no one else's, never even fired.

"Like I said, I figured something of a small caliber would be best considering your age, and you may not take it with you, but I've left instructions with Roger that you may use in your training. Also, I must say, I find the differences in your methods intriguing" He smiled at them both and Mello watched as the case closed on that lovely little gun. It was so small, could almost fit in his palm, and he could hide it in his boot, or under his pillow…it'd even fit in his jeans if he went back to them and…

"Thank you." He managed, still staring at black cover as the detective returned it to the chair. While Mello was lost in his own present, Near had gone back to smiling to himself and adjusting the strap of his new puzzle case. He didn't have to say anything at all.


	15. Repent

AN- (taps syringe) I hope you all enjoyed the last few bit of fluff, because here's the andrenaline and drama shot. Proud of this chapter...don't know why. Long too, so get comfortable. Step Lightly- Kani.

Mello was sitting up late going over his notes the day before his birthday. His window was cracked to let in the cold breeze, but he couldn't bring himself to open it all the way. An odd smell came to him…something familiar almost, smoky and cloying. He glance around his room, but there was nothing there that could make that scent.

After a moment, it grew stronger, and he set his notes aside and slid from beneath the blanket. Padding out into the hall barefoot, he noticed a cold breeze, much stronger than his own, coming from under Matt's door. He frowned. Matt hated the cold. Hated it with a passion that only Matt could manage…if it dropped below seventy five in the house, he had two shirts and a vest on, complaining until he managed to seclude himself in a study or his room and turn the heat up. For Matt to have his window open in early December was unheard of.

He placed a gloved hand on the handle, cold even through his leather, and opened the door a bit. Peering around the door frame he paused in shock to find Matt on the window sill of all places. Shirtless. Smoking.

The smell hit him much harder here, and if he hadn't remembered it from somewhere, he might have gagged. This was it then…Matt had somehow managed to come by cigarettes. Mello frowned again, but something kept him quiet. He stood there, ignoring the cold wind across his feet and stared for a long moment.

Were Mello a girl, he might have recognized it immediately. Worse, he might have been able to point out why, to explain to himself that it was the way the cigarette hung from his lips, the way the disjointed moonlight on the courtyard was blue and gray on his skin. He might been able to realize that the light filtered up through those ever-present goggles and cast a green glow on his throat and shoulder. The way his messy hair moved when the wind picked up. He might have known these things.

However, Mello was a boy, and boys are not given to such thoughts…instead, he knew that Matt just looked…good, and he didn't know why.

It scared him. It scared him badly.

He eased out of the room, any thought of reprimand dying like a gutted rabbit. Let Matt smoke, he had bigger problems right now. He shut the door as quietly as he'd opened it, heart in his throat as he paused to see if he'd been heard. Nothing but silence and the whistle of wind in the window frame. He set off down the hall, pulling his t-shirt off over his head and casting it aside. It'd make a strange picture the next morning, to be sure, with his notes scattered down the hall from the breeze, and a trail of his clothing to the bathroom. He didn't care.

Perhaps it'd just been too long, he thought he cleared the bathroom door and shut it behind him. The lock engaged with a quiet click, and then finally, he divested himself of his jeans and boxers. Too long since he last repented with any honesty…he'd felt that he was just going through the motions lately, because life had been so good to him. Perhaps he was merely becoming spoiled by the wealth of attention and time that Wammy and its crew spent taking of his every need, seeing to his future.

The roar of water filled the small room, and he engaged the drain lock, watching the water begin to pool in the porcelain tub. Without hesitation, he reached over and turned the tap to cold, as far as it would go, beyond the normal cold of cold showers and on into the punishing temperatures. He removed his rosary, crossing himself, and hung it on the door knob, double checking the lock. His business with God was his own, after all.

He knelt on the tile, muttering a quick Blessed Be, and Hail Mary, and then stepped in. He sank into the frigid water without hesitation, letting it wash over his hips and stomach. The icy bite of it cut to his bones, immediately sending pins and needles of pain to every inch of skin that wasn't submerged. Yes…spoiled.

He knelt there, in the water, and tried to recall his last cleansing bath at the monastery. Bile rose in his throat as the memory came finally, clear in its details and likeness. A metal tub there, a hard drum of steel seated in the middle of the chapel. It was used for baptism, and for punishment. Superstitious old fools that believed the baptizing power carried over no matter the circumstances. Priests in brown robes, and the man in red. The man in red never touched the children, content to oversee, to let his zealous workers take care of them.

He again heard the voice intoning his sin, echoing through the chapel while some little girl cried in the pews. Half of them probably didn't even comprehend what was happening, but Mello knew. He understood, better than any of them, at his age.

The priest finished, and he recited it back to him, shivering in the water before the altar and statue of Christ.

"I am a heretic, and I have sinned. I have looked upon the forbidden flesh of my fellow men with lust in my heart, and I am damned. I am a heretic. Father forgive." He placed both hands on the side of the tub and plunged his face into the water. The cold hit him with a shock, stealing his breath in a cloud of bubbles, and now, finally, he trembled at the temperature. He sat up, and did not wipe the water from his eyes, content to let it run down his cheeks and over his chest.

When it'd first begun, they'd had to force him down. Two priests with cold eyes and hands would force him to submerge.

"I am a heretic, and I have sinned. I have looked upon the forbidden flesh of my fellow men with lust in my heart, and I am damned. I am a heretic. Father Forgive."

They'd hold him there until he feared he'd drown. When he'd first arrived, he refused to learn the account of his sin. He'd been wild, uncomprehending as the rest of them…scared, intelligent, and unprepared for life amongst the priests.

"I am a heretic, and I have sinned. I have looked upon the forbidden flesh of my fellow men with lust in my heart, and I am damned. I am a heretic. Father forgive."

They refused to torture him…though they carried the same definition of torture as inquisitors did a thousand years ago. If there were no spikes, branding, scalding, or maiming it wasn't really torture. Ignorant fools.

"I am a heretic, and I have sinned. I have looked upon the forbidden flesh of my fellow men with lust in my heart, and I am damned. I am a heretic. Father forgive."

They were children, all of them. The mission was to reinvent hell, to put the fear of God into the disbelieving, to set the children on the path to righteous glory.

"I am a heretic, and I have sinned. I have looked upon the forbidden flesh of my fellow men with lust in my heart, and I am damned. I am a heretic. Father forgive."

Mello found himself wondering how anyone could find righteous glory in an insane asylum. The water was cold, so damn cold, and it would be, in the middle of winter, never mind how warm the chapel was. No more. After a few weeks, when the bathing became a daily process, he went into the water willingly, and the priests no longer had to rip at his hair, leaving biting nail marks on his scalp and shoulders.

The third month he began reciting.

"I am a heretic, and I have sinned. I have looked upon the forbidden flesh of my fellow men with lust in my heart, and I am damned. I am a heretic. Father forgive."

He didn't remember what they'd done to finally convince him. It was something drastic, even by their standards. By the time they'd threatened him with it, he was half dead, and the children that were forced to watch this every morning upon getting out of bed were crying for him in earnest. They sobbed in the pews behind them, because that's all he was…an example. It could happen to them as well, and they wept in fear too.

Mello did not cry anymore.

"I am a heretic, and I have sinned. I have looked upon the forbidden flesh of my fellow men with lust in my heart, and I am damned. I am a heretic. Father forgive."

His business with God was his own…and while he realized that the priests taught that to keep themselves safe, he also took it to heart. That meant that his pain was none of their concern anyway, and that his business with god…well.

That was between him and that statue.

"I am a heretic, and I have sinned. I have looked upon the forbidden flesh of my fellow men with lust in my heart, and I am damned. I am a heretic. Father forgive."

It was easier after that.

Once he learned that priests were just misguided fools, it was so easy to ignore them. He'd recite, he'd kneel and pray, he learned the bible under the lash of a wide leather belt. It didn't matter. None of it mattered…

'One punishes the flesh because it is not one's place to punish the soul. In this way we make amends to our Father in heaven for our wrongdoings.'

He hated them all. Might as well repent for that too.

"I am a heretic, and I have sinned. I have looked upon the forbidden flesh of my fellow men with lust in my heart, and I am damned. I am a heretic. Father forgive."

Fix it. He'd fix it. Sometimes repenting just wasn't good enough.

"I am a heretic, and I have sinned. I have looked upon the forbidden flesh of my fellow men with lust in my heart, and I am damned. I am a heretic. Father forgive."

XXXX

"Mello, you're sick." Mello shifted his bag unsteadily, trying to ignore the throbbing headache that threatened to send him tumbling down the stairs.

"Near, what about our unspoken agreement?" He snapped, wishing for all the world that he would lose his footing and knock himself unconscious. The albino next to him didn't bother glancing at him.

"Which one?"

"The one where we refuse to speak to other." He glanced across the stairwell at him. They were leaving a shared class, and they walked as far away from one another as possible. Sometimes an impatient student would slip between them, but they maintained the distance, refusing to walk next to each other.

"I suppose common sense and common courtesy demand I make a statement."

"Fine…what did you say again?"

"I said that you are sick. You're weak, you have a fever, head ache, and you've been shaking for the last hour or so. What's wrong with you?"

Mello growled…or tried to. It came out as more of a moan than a growl. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You've been slacking in class this week, and you're health is steadily falling apart. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Which leads me to believe that this some kind of self-righteous crusade you're undergoing, trying to prove yourself to a God who isn't listening."

"Near, shut the fuck up…you have no right to…"Mello swayed unsteadily, his rant trailing off as his heart picked up. "No right to…"

"Mello?"

"You shouldn't…."

Near barely managed to catch him as his knees gave out beneath him. As it were, he had to grab at the railing, lest the heavier Mello drag them both down the flight of stairs. He regained his balance and stretched the blonde out on stairs, sending another child after Roger. Staring down at his rival, he twisted a finger into his hair, tugging it in annoyance.

Really, he didn't understand religious fanatics.

XXXX

Mello woke in the infirmary section of the House, glancing around as the haze and headache lightened somewhat. The first thing his eyes fell upon was Roger. The first thought he registered was that the old man looked decidedly furious. Why was he upset? What had happened? He made the mistake of moving, trying to sit up, and Roger's old blue eyes snapped to his the second he realized the boy was awake.

Mello wilted a bit under that glare. It surprised him really, to find that Roger being angry with him was upsetting. It's not that he didn't care what the old man thought, but he had, in fact, grown rather fond of Wammy's grandfather-figure.

Why was he angry?

Mello opened his mouth to ask, and found his throat so dry he couldn't talk. They'd put him on something, some form of medication, and he could feel it in his blood. It made him nervous, because Wammy never drugged him. They had a deal…

They had a deal. Roger had…

Mello felt the beginnings of a panic returning as he struggled to sit upright.

"Stop it." He froze. Roger's voice cut his thoughts off completely, stopped him cold. Why was he angry? Why had he broken the deal?

"Mello, I cannot believe you." He watched the man stand slowly, noticing the arthritis in his back for the first time. Roger walked over to the counter and got him a cup of water. "Did you really think we wouldn't find out?"

Mello accepted the cup with shaking fingers, managing to spill half of it before it even reached his lips. His throat burned as the cool liquid soothed his throat, and he coughed a bit. Roger took the cup back and set it to the side, standing over his bed with both arms crossed. He looked angry, he looked upset…worried. Mello was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. What the hell was going on…

"You passed out on the stairs, Mello." Stairs? He didn't remember any stairs…

"Near caught you, though barely. You likely would have hurt yourself had he not been there."

Near?

Near caught him?

What the fuck?

"What's …"

"Don't interrupt me, young man. I'm not finished." Mello cringed again, shrinking in on himself. Roger regarded him for a long moment before sitting on the edge of his bed.

"You haven't eaten in at least a week." He watched Mello's eyes widen, his hand instinctively searching for his crucifix. "Yes… we know about that."

Roger reached into his pocket and pulled the rosary out; handing it off to its owner with a look that was almost contempt. "You've been throwing your food out the window, haven't you?"

Mello took the crucifix and pressed a kiss to it, slipping it over his head. It smelled a bit like pipe tobacco now…he completely ignored the question. That was all the answer Roger needed.

"I'm having your window nailed shut, Mello." Mello opened his mouth to protest, thinking of his beautiful view, but Roger cut him off with a wave of his hand. "No. I don't want to hear it, do you understand? I mean, really Mello, starving yourself?"

"Im…important."

"Stupid." Mello drew back at that, his eyes wide with hurt. Roger just didn't understand, and oh his window….

"It was incredibly stupid, Mello. And we both know you're anything but. I trusted you. I let you have your room and your quirks, and your religious stipulations."

Mello wrapped his arms around himself, trying not to listen, not to move. They just didn't understand.

"I trusted you to be mature enough to overcome your time at the monastery, Mello. I didn't expect you to become just like the priests." Oh that hurt, that cut him deeply, and his breath came sharply as he turned away.

"Look at me when I talk to you, boy."

Mello turned back, clutching his rosary.

"I trusted you, and you have proven me wrong. Therefore, I'm afraid that I am going to punish you this time, Mello." Mello felt a spark of hope, because that wasn't so bad, right? Detention, writing assignments, like the other kids…

"I'm taking your room away."

What…the…fuck…

His mouth fell open, protests flooding his tongue so quickly that he couldn't get any of them out. Roger held his hand again, waving him into silence as old people tend to do.

"I'm sorry. I can't trust you to behave on your own anymore. You may keep it until January, when the next semester starts, and then I am moving you into a different hall."

"But Roger…"

"No. I don't want to hear it. Your window will be nailed shut when you get out of here, and it will remain that way, am I clear?"

Mello just stared, dumbstruck, and he suddenly realized that he wanted to cry. Amazing…he never cried. Ever.

"And I think you better thank me, son, because I think if I left you in that hall, your friend would kill you."

"Matt?" It was more of a croak than a question.

"Is absolutely furious with you." Roger watched him flinch, wrapping his small arms tighter around himself. "Now, you'll be staying here until you gain back the weight you've lost and we're sure that you didn't cause any internal damage with your week's starvation."

Mello tried to swallow and couldn't.

"You'll be moving into a dorm with a roommate next semester. The fact that you can't stand each other should keep you both in line." Mello stared at him, gripping at his arm.

"You're fucking with me…"

"Hardly. He's not exactly thrilled with the prospect, but you've signed up for the exact same courses next semester."

"I hate him."

"You should have thought about that before you pulled your little stunt last week. Now, I'm not letting Matt in to see you, because I think you've had quite enough for one day. But you might want to prepare yourself…he's got some lovely rants composed, one about suicide and hellfire, and another about lying to your friends and stupid religious zealotries. You're lucky I caught him before he burned your birthday present."

Mello fell back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Dear God, the world had gone mad… it was just the drugs and he'd wake up in a minute.

"Mello…"

"Yes sir?" He sat up again, looked for all the world like a dejected puppy. Roger leaned forward and hugged him tightly. Mello stared into the room in shock as he was held, afraid to move.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again, son. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir." Roger pulled back and sighed, brushing the blonde hair back behind his ears.

"You won't tell us why, will you?"

"No sir." Roger shook his head sadly.

"Alright. Now get some rest. I'll be back to check on you later. Eric is going to watch you eat your meals for a while." Mello just nodded, and Roger stood, heading for the door.

"I'll let Matt in tomorrow. Be ready for it."

"Yes sir."


	16. Breaking

AN- ...I hate chapters like this. Makes me sad. Ashes updates next. -Kani

Roger couldn't let Matt in the next day as he claimed. Mello wasn't sure if it was because he was still too angry, or if it was Mello's sudden plunge in health that settled the matter. His body was reacting strangely to the drugs; they made him ill and weak. Roger refused to take him off of them completely however, and instead just lightened the dosage. Mello felt like Hell for the rest of the week, but between the vitamins in his IV and the small meals he was forced to eat, he recovered quickly.

Roger renewed the deal on the condition that he never put himself in a life-threatening situation again. Mello agreed, but something had been damaged there…he didn't trust the old man like he used to, and it made him sad. He made resolve not to be so trusting in the future, no matter how safe the situation seemed.

Now came the hard part. He sat on his bed, back in his jeans and black t-shirt for the first time since that summer. It felt good to be modest again for a while, though he sorely missed the feel of the leather.

Matt was out of class…Mello glanced at his clock and guessed that he'd be here in a few minutes. He braced himself.

XXXX

"I thought Suicide was a Mortal Sin or some shit…sends you straight to Hell?!" Matt was pacing furiously in front of the bed, as he had been for the last half hour. Mello was trying to keep his temper, really he was, but the redhead wouldn't listen to him.

"It IS, and that was not a suicide attempt Goddamn it!"

"Coulda fooled me…it landed your ass in the infirmary didn't it? Fuck, Mello, what happened? What'd I do?" Matt turned to face him now, and Mello nearly flinched at his expression.

"_Nothing,_ Matt! It had nothing to do with you."

"Don't you fucking lie to me Mello…you hid it from me, and that means I'm involved."

"I hid it from everyone." Mello finally sat down for the first time since this argument started, sinking into his desk chair.

"Yeah, but you don't_hide_ shit from me. We don't hide things from one another."

"How long have you been smoking, then, Matt? When were you gonna tell me about that?"

Matt turned to stare him, obviously surprised. "A month… I didn't want you to be upset."

"See? Now you're just being hypocritical." Mello crossed his arms, adopting his infuriatingly calm expression. It served its purpose beautifully, and he watched Matt's freckles fade as anger painted his cheeks red. He spoke quietly, and Mello would have given him points for the intimidation factor if it weren't Matt…

"Mello, there's a slight difference between having a smoke and _starving_ yourself."

…Because he just knew Matt too well.

"Yeah, a matter of years. That's fucking stupid, Matt…how'd you get them anyway?"

"Lifted them off my CSS professor. He kept them in his drawer, in plain sight. I wanted to try it out, but now I crave'em and I can't… Fuck, Mello, stop changing the subject! This ain't about me!"

Mello refused to look at him; another little detail he knew would push Matt into a rage. He was cruel when he was angry however, so he didn't care…he just turned his eyes to the wall, and ignored the gamer. "I told you, I had a reason."

"Oh Right, your religious bullshit that demands…" Mello snapped his head back, cold fury in his eyes. Matt backed up a step. "…what?"

"I never expected you to be that disrespectful, Matt."

Matt gave cynical laugh, fisting his hands in his hair in his frustration. "I never expected _God_ to convince my best friend that he was a piece of_trash_ and didn't deserve to be _happy_ either. _Fuck_ that, man…"

"Matt, stop it."

"No, I'm not gonna stop it! You could have _hurt_ yourself Mello. You could have gotten yourself so jacked up that you really would have died, whether you meant to or not."

"I know what I'm doing." Mello paled at the slip, realizing his mistake as Matt drew himself up straight.

"Excuse me?"

"…" _Shit._

"You've done this before, haven't you?"

"Shut up Matt."

"No. You…Fuck, that's it, isn't it? _They_ did it to you…" Matt's fists trembled in his rage, and Mello was sure that if he didn't back away from that topic, and quickly, this could become physical.

"Matt…"

"In that orphanage…they did, didn't they?"

"Matt I'm serious."

"So am I, dude, I swear it. What did they do to you?" Mello's hand wrapped itself around his cross, because no one had ever asked him that. No one.

"Matt, don't."

"Don't what? Don't care? Don't bother to give a fuck if…"Matt's eyes fell upon Mello's fist, gripping his rosary tightly, and something dangerous entered his eyes. Mello froze as he shook his head. "No. Let it go."

"Matt, what are you-"

"Let it GO, Mello." The rosary…

"I…no, I won't." In two steps Matt was standing over him, and Mello fought the urge to run. Matt's fist rose, and something like panic burned in his chest like a match to dry paper. He didn't want this…

Matt forced himself to look away and his hand dropped as he regained his fractured control. When he was this close, Mello could feel the energy crackling off him in waves, his anger was so strong. He gripped it tighter.

"Mello…let it go. Now." Mello stared at Matt's profile, wanting to make eye contact and yet scared to. He answered truthfully, almost too quietly to be heard.

"I…I _can't_, Matt."

Before he could blink, Matt's open hand hit his chest, grabbing the beaded strands and a bit of his shirt too. Time seemed to slow in the split second when those green eyes returned to his and then Matt wrenched back with all his strength.

Pressure…at the back of his neck, pain so brief he might have dreamed it, and then a _snap_.

Beads clinked and rolled across the floor.

Mello saw red.

He was on his feet, and the metal cross dropped with a clatter to the floorboards as he shoved Matt backwards roughly.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah, maybe I do."

Mello didn't give him the satisfaction of a reply and instead drove his fist into the young gamer's mouth. It hurt…both his bare knuckles and somewhere in his chest…to watch him stumble back, a hand clapped over his lips as something crimson and bright dripped down his chin. Mello was not weak, though he was small, and even with a week of being bedridden, he was still the more powerful of the two.

It felt good.

Rage, something manic and irrepressible, hit his bloodstream as he hauled his friend up by the shoulders and hit him again. If something had been missing during his training, during his work, this was it. This is what made it real, made it worth it. It was the way his vision hazed, the harsh edges he could hear in his own voice as he slammed that pretty red-head into the fucking door and pegged him there like a snared rabbit.

"Did it ever occur to you that I don't really give a fuck about what you think, Mail?"

Those green eyes met his again, and their usual sparkle was out like a candle's flame…doused in cold pain and surprise.

"I mean really…" Mello turned and threw him against the dresser. He hit it hard, his feet skidding across the fallen beads. "…did it ever cross your mind?"

"You don't mean that…"

"Don't I, Mail?" Mello's fist cracked across his jaw again, and he noted in passing that the striped gloves the gamer wore were marred with blood, dark against the green and orange stripes. It fed the fire in his chest and he leaned on the vanity, watching Matt sit up across from him. He crossed his arms, still speaking, though he didn't really hear himself anymore…

"You're pathetic. You stayed out in the hall the entire week I was in the infirmary, didn't you?"

"Yeah…"

"Why?"

"You're my friend."

"I didn't ask to be." The gamer flinched, trying to mop the blood off his chin.

"Did you ever really think it was anything more than pity, Matt? You showed up and begged me to be your friend. Asked a complete stranger, one you'd never laid eyes on…."

"Shut up."

"You did. And I'm not." Mello wasn't ready for the blow, but when Matt pulled his knee up and drove his sneaker into his stomach, he wasn't surprised. He barely managed to tense so it didn't hurt quite as much as it could have.

"You're a fucking LIAR Mello!" Mello was still picking himself up when Matt punched him, but he wasn't about to take that. Oh no, he was up again, and hell itself was on his side. He felt as though something he'd needed all his life were just presented to him on a silver platter, and he grabbed it with everything he had.

Rage was beautiful.

God knew, he had everything in the world to be angry about.

He was possibly in love with his best friend, and God had even tricked him into that. He'd hidden Matt from him until it was too late, until he'd actually started caring. He'd made him everything that Mello needed to get better, to get over his troubles and be happy…and told him that he couldn't have it. He'd made Matt special, made him gifted and brilliant and funny and wonderful, and then burned Mello with guilt every time he noticed. A week ago, he'd driven Mello into a terror with his first taste of desire…that horrible sin of lust that he'd just become old enough to discover. He'd made Mello himself beautiful, made him attractive, and then made him gay and slapped him on the wrist, telling him he couldn't have a relationship with another man…that he'd be alone all his life. On top of that, if he didn't kneel and say his Hail Mary's like a good boy, he'd go to hell…simply because of who he was. It didn't make sense, it wasn't fair, it wasn't right, but it was all he had. God had taken everything from him, replaced it with himself and called it righteous.

And _Yes_…yes, Hail Mary, Mello hated him for it. For all his cruelty, for every insult and blow he landed on his only friend, he knew somewhere in his mind that it wasn't Matt he was hitting. It wasn't Matt he was hurting, he was just venting, taking all of this out before it could fester into something more dangerous than it already was. No, he didn't hate Matt, yes, he gave a fuck if he lived or died; no he didn't want him to drown in tar and vomit when cigarettes finally did him in. No…no he didn't want any of that.

He wasn't sure when Matt stopped fighting back, but he kept going until he wore himself out. He wasn't sure when Matt started crying, but he felt it tear through his soul, ripping his heart to pieces even as it fed that something he craved. God, at least somebody was hurting for him…someone else, and it was scary to share that pain. He did know that after the first ten minutes, he didn't mean it anymore. He did know that Matt wasn't crying because he was hurt, he was crying to see him like this…driven to violence to exorcise the demons in his heart. He knew he wasn't trying to hurt him, it was in the way he weakly braced himself, catching the punches easily on his arms, and Mello thanked God for the little things. At least he knew…

But it was after that nearly killed him. When the fire of his rage dimmed and went out all once like a candle doused in ice water, and he sank to his knees, shaking, scared and hurting in ways he hadn't thought possible. It was when he stumbled back, dropped Matt from where he was pinned to the wall, and just backed away, until the bed braced him. He felt his throat close, all further insults and much desired apologies strangled to death on his tongue, because he just couldn't speak. It was when Matt lowered his arms, looked at him, and really _looked_ at him.

…When Matt wasn't angry. That killed him. That took whatever shreds of his heart it could find and stirred them up a bit, ripping holes wide, tearing him to the core. When Matt looked up, and understood, when he…when he came forward, reaching to place a steadying hand on his shoulder…

Something was unraveling. Mello was falling apart, and he didn't understand it, and it scared him. It scared him so badly. He shook his head, but Matt kept coming, only steps away now, and there was a trail of blood from a split lip down his chin…across the green plastic of his goggles, hanging around his throat. He shook his head, panic in his heart, his entire soul just screaming and he found his voice…finally.

"Get out." It was hoarse, but he had been screaming at him the last twenty minutes. Matt flinched slightly, his outstretched hand pulling back a bit.

It was what he wanted…it wasn't what he needed. "Please, Matt, just get the fuck out. Go."

Matt hesitated, but nodded once and Mello hated God again. Hated him for making him so damn perfect, that he just knew, that he could just look and know…

Matt wiped his chin off, and didn't look back as he headed out the door. It shut with a click so quiet it was blasphemous in the aftermath of what had just happened. Mello felt fractured, but the pain didn't stop when Matt left…it didn't disappear, it just grew worse. When the last stripe disappeared, and the sound of his door closing across the hall came…it was so much worse. It hurt, and surely, God was being merciful and killing him now. Surely, that's what this was, God taking pity on him last, reaching out and stopping his heart, letting it all fade…

He stumbled to the closet, fumbling through the things blindly. He choked on the thin layer of dust from the floor, shoving the vase aside. The terry cloth rabbit…Home….

He pulled it out and stared at it for a moment, crawling backwards across the floor to place his back against the white door. Beads rolled from beneath his fumbling touch, that damn rabbit, clutched tightly in one hand. He drew his knees up and crushed Home to his thin chest, burying his nose between its herb and dust scented ears.

His eyes fell on the fallen crucifix, almost poetic in its carnage of beads and thread.

God's mercy…

Mello cried.


	17. Confessional

AN- Oh god, this chapter. Just...just...wow. I love it...I hope you do too...-Kani

A few hours later, Mello was still staring at the fallen crucifix. After a moment's indecision, he threw Home back into the open closet.

A thump and slide against the door at his back told him that Matt was back, and for once they had changed sides. A crackle of plastic and Mello glanced to find two of his favorite chocolate bars being slid through the crack by the floor. He took one up gratefully, and for a moment, they were just quiet, each thinking and recovering from whatever had just happened. Mello still didn't know what to call it, or how it would affect their friendship. He'd worried for a while that it would end it, but Matt had reached out to him after he'd…hurt him, so maybe not. Matt understood what was going on better than he did. Even if it didn't make sense to Mello, Matt knew, and he supposed that counted for something.

"Hey Mel…"

"Matt…Don't give me nicknames."

"Okay. Mello…I'm sorry about your rosary."

"…Yeah, me too."

"I mean it, Mello. I know it was too much…I just…" There was sigh, and Mello tilted his head back against the door, imagining the gamer pulling his goggles over his eyes. He always did that when he wasn't sure of himself…like he could hide behind green plastic and everything would be okay.

"It'll be fine."

"No, it won't. That meant a lot to you, and I just…you remember the night I cut your hair?"

"Yeah."

"After we had that fight about the leather?"

"Yeah."

"You told me then that it was more my place to chew you out than anyone else's. I kind of took it heart, I guess. It wasn't right though…to break it like that."

"I'll just get another one."

"…Then you completely missed my point, but whatever…"

It was Mello's turn to sigh, and he opened the chocolate in his hands. "No, Matt, I get it…I'm just not ready yet."

"Why not?"

Mello broke off a bite, and was quiet for a moment as the chocolate melted on his tongue. He'd never talked about the orphanage before…ever.

"The orphanage…it was difficult." He heard Matt sit up a little straighter, and a click that could have been his goggles pressing against the door as he turned his head to listen. It made him smile despite himself. "You willing to listen for a bit?"

"If you're willing to talk, man, fuck yeah. It'd be nice to know…maybe help me understand where the lines are before I go ripping them up."

Mello nodded to himself and glanced down at the chocolate again. "You got anymore of these? This might take a bit."

"I have…four…in my pocket." Came the embarrassed reply, and Mello was almost startled into laughing.

"Four, Matt?"

"…I felt bad. Shut up, or I'll make you open the door to get it."

"Okay…" Mello took another bite and a deep breath. He started at the beginning, because he didn't know how else to go about it. "I found out I was gay about three…maybe four years ago. I didn't know what it meant, or why it happened, but I didn't start noticing girls like other boys do. I started noticing guys more and more, and while they were handing out candy and flowers to little girls that went blushing and screaming away across the playground, I just watched. I felt different, and I wasn't sure why. Luckily I was a quiet kid, or things would have been much worse I think.

I was member of a large catholic family…we were very close, all eight of us. Might as well have been twelve of us, with my grandparents. I had four sisters and an older brother. I was the youngest of the children, and the last my mother would ever have. There was a lot of love, and a lot of religion, in that house. They were good to me.

One year on my second-oldest sister's birthday…she was…fifteen, I think…I was helping the girls with dinner. My older brother was about twenty-three, and he was in the living-room reading and drinking with my father and grandfathers. They made quite a fuss over me, I remember, for being the only male in the house that liked cooking with them. Things were fine until my sister began talking about school." He idly licked the candy bar, trying to remember exactly how it happened.

"She started talking about this boy at school that she liked. It was a fairly small community, the kind where families know each other, and so it wasn't as big a deal to my parents as it could have been. It was fine, and before you knew it, my mother was joining in, talking about how she and my father met. Then my grandmothers, about how romantic their husbands used to be…the entire kitchen lit up with laughter and conversation.

I was barely…no, I hadn't turned eight yet…my birthday was in a month or so." Mello paused, because he hadn't realized that he'd had his birthday at the monastery. It made him sad. He shook his head and continued.

"Anyway, you know how kids are. They want to be a part of things, want to participate and be acknowledged by the adults. So…I did the logical thing, and I…told them about my crush. Some kid in my class…I don't even remember his name or face now. It was the first time I'd told anyone that I liked boys. Worst mistake of my life…undoubtedly. My brother happened to over hear, and the entire house was silent for long time."

Mello skipped the fight that resulted from that little discovery, because it was enough to tear his family apart. His grandmother…his mother's mother…she was the only one who tried to keep him. Perhaps that was what hurt the most…how easily they let him go.

"The next morning, my Father didn't take to me to school, but out of town. We drove for hours, off into the hills. To an abandoned monastery serving as an orphanage…he left me there, with a man I'd never seen before, one who wouldn't touch me with his bare hands. He disowned me, and that's the last I ever saw of my family. Sometimes I wonder if my Grandmama is still alive…or if my sister got married. I don't know. I don't think I really care." He picked up the second chocolate bar and ripped into it. Matt wordlessly slipped another under the door.

"The monastery was run by an ex-priest…an old zealot who didn't know his place and was excommunicated for abusing his power. No one but the children knew that detail, and in the surrounding area, he was an illustrious and honorable man of the clergy, sacrificing his time and money to help the wayward children. Wayward…" the word rolled off his tongue like something poisonous.

"There wasn't a damn thing wrong with any of them. I'd bet my soul that half of them had parents that simply couldn't afford them, or just didn't want them at all. I think I was the only real screw-up in that temple. I think they knew it too, because from then on, I was the black sheep, the excuse, the example…they used me to scare the others into submission. Sometimes I wonder if my sin was so great…or if perhaps it was just that I was the only sin present. They taught me the bible with a belt, and taught me to repent with ice baths…if I were particularly mouthy they wouldn't feed me for a week or so. I developed quite a temper in that place."

"They tortured a kid?" Matt voice was quiet, and angry.

"Nothing overly violent…there's only so much you can do to a child without killing it, after all. They did what they thought was right, and that was my introduction to the Old Testament God. The one that they don't talk about much anymore…all my life, I'd grown up in the comfort of his shelter and protection, and then suddenly I was learning what it was like to be without it. They…took everything from me. I forgot the names of my sisters…I forgot the songs I'd learned in school, everything. All I had was the faith. If I kept the faith, then maybe things would get better someday. They instilled a need in me…I can't explain it really. They took me and broke me open, and then fixed me with their righteous teachings. It was all bullshit, and somehow I knew that, but I took it anyway. It was better than having nothing at all. There was peace in prayer, and in repentance, and if I couldn't get it anywhere else, then I took it from the bible."

"Mello, I'm sorry…"

"It's got nothing to do with you, Matt. Not a damn thing. I almost wish it did, because then I'd have someone to blame. They were absolved of all sin, however, because of their good works. I was only there for a year, and I realize that, but…hell, it was forever. It was a century, because every waking moment, and sometimes even while I slept they kept at it. They'd make midnight rounds, when they were drunk and the mood took them, and God help you if you made them angry then. One night, I woke up with an attitude, and they called an assembly at two in the morning, pulling five-year olds out of bed to witness. They pulled a pew up before the altar and made me kneel on it so they could lay into me with the belts again."

"Belts?"

"Yeah, they were smart about the abuse; I have to give them that. They used wide leather…it rarely broke skin, but it'd leave vicious welts. They broke skin on me all the time, though, because they knew they didn't have to give me back. All of the other kids might eventually return to their parents, but I had no such back up. I was theirs completely, and they used me. I've outgrown most of the scars now…I think I have one across my shoulder that got infected that you can still see."

"I don't want to."

"I hadn't planned on showing it to you, Matt. Anyway, I was only there for a year. Then Wammy came and got me." Mello polished off the second chocolate bar, and took a moment to revel in the taste and sugar. He needed it, and he snatched the third up and set to work on it too.

"Want to know something funny?"

"Depends on your definition of funny, Mello."

"I think I got more out of confessing that to you than I ever did out of a priest."

"Thanks."

Mello sighed and shifted, standing up. His legs ached from being drawn up so long. "Matt, why do you put up with me?"

"What do you mean?" Mello paused as he pulled his leather from the drawer and began changing by the bed.

"I mean that anyone else would have written me off a long time ago. You're still here." There was a sigh, and he knew that Matt was blushing and hiding his face in his hands. He always got uncomfortable when someone pointed that kind of thing out to him.

"You're just…all I have, man. After my parents died, and Wammy took me in…I really had no one."

"Matt, you have the entire house…"

"I had you first though. I can't…no offense, but I can't explain it without sounding really gay, so don't worry about it."

"Try me, Matt."

"…Okay. Well…you just…you're my best friend. Not because you're my only friend…I mean really." There was a quiet pause and Mello knew he was trying to think through his explanation a bit more. "Everything about you just kind of…fits, you know? I mean, you helped me get over my parents and stuff, but that wasn't something you did. That was just…you. I can't explain it any better than that."

Mello nodded to himself, and zipped his vest up. "I get it. Thanks."

There was a sigh of relief, and Mello let his gamer off. He ran his hands over the leather, smoothing it over his hips and chest. This is who he was now…the decision caught him off guard, but it was a welcome one. Maybe it was time for change. He glanced down and picked up the crucifix, his gloves in one hand. There were no pockets in his leather pants, so he just tucked it into his boot. Things changed…that was the one thing he was coming to understand. No matter how comfortable he got in one stage of life, another would come along and then he'd have to adjust all over again. He moved to stand before the door, his gloves in one fist. His other hand strayed to his chest, but grim reality settled in when there wasn't a rosary to comfort him. It lay scattered across the floor behind him.

"Matt?" There was a shifting, and Mello heard him stand and dust himself off. He asked it quietly, his bared hand coming to the grip the doorknob. "Do you trust me?"

"I'm trying Mello…it's just that every time I finally do, you scare the hell out of me." Mello took a deep breath and opened the door. Matt stood facing him, hands in his pockets. He met his eyes for a long moment.

"I mean it, Matt. Do you trust me?" Matt stared back, and nodded. Mello's eyes strayed to his split lip, still red and slightly swollen. Guilt tightened his throat again, and he took a steadying breath. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"No…it's not. It wasn't your fault." The fist tightened around the leather gloves until they creaked in his grip, but Mello wasn't about to cry again. He'd had enough, and in truth, when he thought about it, he felt amazing. Much better than he ever had before…he supposed God granted him some mercy after all. They stood there for a long time, just regarding each other in a comfortable silence. Mello thought long and hard for a few minutes.

"You trust me…you're sure?"

"…Yeah. I do." Mello closed his eyes and mentally ran through a prayer. The gloves fell from his fingers to the floor, and he rubbed his hands together for a moment, as though cold.

He was scared. He was so scared.

He'd made up his mind, however, and as soon as his hands quit shaking…No he couldn't wait that long. It had to be now, or it would never happen.

He opened his eyes and held Matt's for another moment. The concern there gave him strength, and he forced his reluctant arms to move, now, right now, before he gave up…

He put his hands on Matt's shoulders.

Frozen in place, he waited. Waited for something, anything…lightening from the sky, a belt across his shoulders…

Matt was warm.

Mello could feel himself shaking, but he didn't let go. Matt's eyes widened, but he didn't move. His heart was in his throat, but he was…touching someone. Willingly… it was his choice. His eyes fell from Matt's and to the floor in shock, but he forced them up again, searching his face for an answer he didn't know he was looking for. The grip on the gamer's shirt tightened into something almost painful, but he wouldn't let himself let go. He couldn't, not yet. He may never be able to do this again, Matt may allow it twice, or he may never find the nerve…

"Easy, Mello…calm down." Instead of flinching away from that voice like he wanted to, he held on for dear life. Matt smiled at him, and some part of the fear went away. Matt never scared him when he smiled…it didn't bother him like it did when other people did it. The exception…he was always the exception. "Just take a breath."

He did…he inhaled slowly and the death-grip lightened somewhat. His eyes slowly filled with wonder, staring at his own hands on the other person…touching someone else. "Matt…I'm touching you…"

"Yeah."

"I've never…"

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine…just don't kiss me or anything." The thought hadn't even crossed his mind, but it brought the fear crashing back. Matt seemed to realize his mistake and caught his wrists before he pulled away. "I didn't mean that…I'm sorry, it was a joke…calm down."

Mello stared hard at the hands around his own. Matt released him instantly, holding his hands up. "I'm sorry…I really didn't mean it."

Mello just nodded numbly, and moved his left hand an inch. The movement startled him, making him jump like a startled cat at the feel of fabric moving across his palm. Matt chuckled at him, and Mello could feel it vibrate through his frame, tickling his fingers. He licked his lips, frowning, and moved his hands again. He hesitated, watching Matt's face for any sign of discontent, but Matt was just watching him back.

He slipped them up and tensed slightly when his fingers brushed over the collar of the striped shirt and met skin. Matt didn't move though, and the skin was warm. He rubbed his thumb over it, marveling at the feel of the gamer's heartbeat beneath his touch. On impulse, he scratched lightly, and his eyes darted back to Matt's as he winced, but he didn't say anything.

He moved his palms up slowly, to either side of his neck, but that was too much and he returned them to his shoulders. Taking another breath, he let his head hang for a moment, his heart still roaring in his ears.

"You okay?"

"Yeah…Yeah, I'm okay." He pulled back slowly, as though he were afraid Matt would shatter now that he'd stopped. But the red-head just grinned at him, that sparkle coming back and he threw his arms wide.

"Ta da! You did it. Want a cookie?"

"Matt…" Matt waved him off.

"I know, I know…I just don't handle serious situations well, sorry." He shoved his hands back in his pockets, and the comfortable silence returned for a bit. Mello broke it, staring at his hands, rubbing them together in disbelief.

"I really just did that."

"Yeah. Proud of you, man….That's a first isn't it?"

"Yeah…first time since…I don't remember."

"Well…good. C'mon, let's go the library. I'll bum some dark chocolate and cocoa off Eric and we'll celebrate." Mello backed up, flustered.

"Matt's it's not that big-" Matt cut him off with a look.

"It is. Shut up. You're getting chocolate, and I get to watch you go all loopy. End of discussion…let's go, junkie."

"And if I refuse?"

"You don't get_ these_." Matt called over his shoulder as he pulled the three remaining candy bars out of his pocket. Mello paused at the top of the stairs.

"Matt." Something in his tone must have clued him in that he was serious, because he turned around and watched him carefully.

"What's up?"

"…I think I could fall in love with you…if I'm not careful."

Matt stared at him for a moment, and then looked away, brow furrowed in thought. Mello felt better having said it, though, and at least it was out there to be acknowledged now. Still…it was important…there was possibility that this could end everything, because one thing was glaringly true in their odd little friendship. He was gay, and Matt was straight. He knew it'd start to matter eventually…but maybe…maybe it'd be easier on his own terms. After a bit, Matt looked back up at him and offered a small smile.

"Well…then we'll have to be careful, won't we? Come on."

And that was that. Mello grinned and followed him down.


	18. Roomates

AN- And here we go with more touchy subject matter. I'm not trying to start a debate, and I hope I've portrayed both sides of the argument as well as I could. (grins) I think I'm about to make a few of you uncomfortable. Say hello to Near, my precious antagonist in this story. Also, I am still without internet. I've been writing at home and then driving to the library to post it, so please, be patient with me. Ashes is coming up sometime soon, but any signal I get at home is stolen from some neighbor or other. I'm hacking just for you guys. -Kani

Mello paced, watching Near from the corner of his eye like a wild animal that may bite him if he looked away. Near had knelt before the chest at the end of his bed, unloading box after box of toys. The sheer amount of them was staggering. Mello himself could never imagine owning so many…things, much less toys.

He'd finished moving in at least two hours ago, coming with a shoulder full of hangers and his bible in hand. It was surprising, really, to realize exactly how little he had to his name. Matt's parents had left him a small fortune, and he got a weekly allowance from it. Mello was absolutely broke. He had the clothes on his back, the leather and some jeans, and even those were technically on loan.

His pacing was beginning to get on even his nerves, but he didn't stop, and Near didn't say anything. His boots clicked, back and forth in front of the fire place. He had to admit, the room itself was amazing really. Two huge windows, and a tiny fireplace…bookshelves filled every available wall space, and the walk-in closet was twice the size of his old one. He'd been grinning ear to ear until he realized something monumentally important…something that ripped the bottom of his stomach out and left him ill with worry.

He'd have to sleep with another boy in the room.

The thought returned, and he realized that a year ago, it'd have sent him straight to his knees and Latin. Not today though…no, not anymore. He was making some kind of progress, though he wasn't entirely sure if it straight to hell or not. It was disconcerting really, to not ask forgiveness for once. His new rosary clicked quietly against his vest zipper, a gift, believe it or not, from Matt. It'd been two months ago, just as Mello had finally saved up enough to buy one of his own. It'd shocked him really, when Matt fished it out of his pocket and slung it over his neck. He was on his way out of…chemical explosives or something. The only thing he'd said was that he was glad Mello finally trusted him a little too.

It felt strange…to have it back after so long without it.

Near accidentally hit a button on an action figure, and sirens went off, alerting an imaginary city that whoever the robot was, he planned to save the day. Mello twitched violently at the reminder that not only would he be sleeping with another boy in the room…it'd be this one…the pagan, insightful bastard that might have saved his life a few months ago when he'd passed out on the stairs.

"Why do we have to do this again?"

Near flipped the power-switch on the toy's foot to off and set it inside the trunk. "Several reasons really…Chief among them being that they think they're being clever by forcing us to co-exist. We're supposed to serve as an example to one another…some mediocre kind of inspiration."

"You're supposed to 'inspire' me?" Mello asked flatly, stopping.

"Ludicrous, isn't it?"

Mello resumed his pacing and Near emptied his last box. Twelve years old, Mello had hit another growth spurt around February, something called puberty. All in all, it hadn't been so bad, though the sound of his own voice drove him insane. He'd gone silent until it passed, quietly testing it about once a week by saying a prayer out loud. His voice was now deeper, older, and it was fascinating to hear. He kind of missed Matt's squeaking though…it had possibly been the funniest thing in his life. There were… other changes, in them both, but Mello would drop dead before he'd acknowledge them. They'd reached a comfortable level again, finally evening out, and Mello would die before he screwed it up intentionally. He supposed the distance was a good thing…a very good thing, because he knew from the day he met him that eventually he'd want Matt. It would be much easier to deny it when he wasn't living so close to him.

He glanced at Near again.

Was it really worth it?

"Stop staring at me Mello."

"I don't think I have to tell you how incredibly uncomfortable I am with this arrangement…"

"No, I have an idea. You've been pacing like a wild kitten since I got here, and I don't think you're going to sleep at all tonight."

"You will?"

"Like a baby." Came the smug reply, and Mello hoped to God he was lying.

"I fucking hate you, you know?"

"Yes…yes I do."

XXXX

He was lying, it turned out. Midnight fast approaching, they both lay awake, staring at each other across the dark room. Neither of them bothered to change…Near was always dressed for bed, and Mello had no intentions of staying here. In fact, as soon as the other fell asleep, he planned to slip out and go find Matt. He'd be awake until two, usually, playing games, and Mello already needed to vent.

"This is ridiculous." Near's voice broke the silence and Mello wished he could see his eyes. Instead, he could only make out the small form sitting up against his head board with his arms crossed. The windows were on his side, so while Mello was in full moonlight, Near was in the shadow between the two.

"Just go to sleep, pagan. I'm not going to attempt a conversion, I promise."

"Shut up, Little Preacher." The nickname, coming from him, was an insult and a well-placed one. Mello purposely crackled the paper on his chocolate bar as he peeled it back. He'd discovered that the noise irritated the albino to no end.

"Why are you an atheist, Near?" Mello asked, falling back to his old habit of discussing religion to make people uncomfortable. "Were you raised that way, or have you lost faith?"

"I simply outgrew the notion of a surrealistic force guiding my life. It seemed pointless to keep asking for help when it obvious that none was coming."

"So because God didn't directly interfere when you asked him to, you gave up?"

Near tugged at his hair in annoyance, the movement a shift in the grey spot of shadow. "Did he for you, Mello? I find myself wondering how you can be so fanatical when your religion brings you nothing but pain."

"It brings me solace as well…it is peaceful to know that some things are beyond our control. It is not our responsibility to make the world a better place…If we change ourselves, the world will change on its own."

"So you're using your religion as an excuse to hide from the rest of the world? From people who may not accept you?"

"That isn't what I said."

"But it's what you're doing. Isn't it? By hiding behind the shield of your religion, you don't have to put up with the people who are biased against you."

"Like you?" Mello shot back and Near fell quiet for a moment. Mello adjusted his pillows and stared into the darkness where Near's eyes should have been.

"…I am not biased against you…not about your sexuality. It hardly matters."

Mello felt an incredulous sneer come across his features at that. "It matters, Near. It has to matter, because it's strange and different. They told me when I came to Wammy that it wouldn't be an issue here, and I was in a fight my first week."

"I know it bothers you to have what is, in your opinion, your greatest flaw chalked up to nothing, but it's true. I don't care…at all. I have reason to hate you, Mello. Real reason."

"L?"

"It's more than that. You'll understand some day. This isn't just some competition between us…it's my future, my inheritance, that you're challenging me for. I don't expect you to comprehend what that means, simply because you consider it a sin to truly own something of value."

"I get the idea, but I fail to see why it would lead you to hatred. Hatred is a poison, and it will kill you as quickly as you allow it."

"And because your destiny has already been decided, because it was decreed by some man in a red cape that you would burn in hell for loving another man, you're content to hate?" Mello frowned and took another bite of his chocolate.

"That's a matter of circumstance."

"And that is a lie. This is part why I can't stand you Mello. Your religion gives you every answer, regardless of any real logic and gift wraps it in layers of cryptic lies. It solves your every problem without you ever having to deal with it yourself."

"Not every problem."

Near turned and fluffed his pillows, his quiet voice calm. "Yes, it can't fix you can it? This is what I'm talking about…you're clinging to it because it's familiar, and it solves every problem…and what it can't solve, is your fault."

"How would a pagan know?"

"I'm atheist, not pagan, you fool. I have no religion at all. It's not like I practice voodoo or something, I just make a hobby out of pointing out the flaws in the major religions."

"How can you really say that there are no higher powers? There are everyday miracles that we simply overlook because they are so common and-"

"We overlook them because there is a perfectly logical, scientific explanation for every one of them, and there is no 'magic' or 'power' to behold. Science. Logic. The antichrist of reality, if you will."

"So you're telling me that because we're smart enough to figure out how something works, we know everything there is to know about our world?"

"Of course not, or we would grow stagnant as a species. The only reason we evolve is because we are continually asking 'Why?'. What I'm telling you is that I find it absolutely ridiculous for people to credit God with our accomplishments as a race."

"We've wiped out plagues before, Near. We took what God offered, and we killed…smallpox, put a leash on Malaria." Mello pulled out another chocolate bar from his dresser. "How is that not evidence of a guiding hand?"

"And yet some factions of Christianity believe science to be the devil's work, that by taking steps to save thousands of lives, we're playing God. And further more…", Near sat up from his pillows, counting off on his fingers. Mello had never seen him this animated. "That's exactly what I'm talking about; you've just taken something perfectly logical, and made an excuse for it. There was illness, we were scared of it; we turned it into a problem and then found a solution. There was no God involved, it was pure human ingenuity."

"If we weren't created with-"

"We weren't_created_. We evolved! Stop trying to answer everything with that book, it doesn't work!"

Mello stared at him hard for a minute. "It must have been bad."

"What?"

"Whatever happened to you that screwed you over like this. You're not an Atheist, Near…you care too much to be impartial." Near fell stone silent, falling back against his pillows.

"That is something I will not discuss with you."

"I really don't give a damn. It just pisses me off to know that you're being that hypocritical."

"Hypocritical?"

"Yes. You believe in God, whether you'll admit it or not, because you're blaming him for the…accident, or whatever it was."

"How can I blame something that doesn't exist?"

"By being angry with it. You're not open to the idea of religion because to you, that means you were abandoned…that God didn't save you. That's the difference. While I follow my God, I hardly love him. I hate him so much that it scares me to call myself Christian."

"Then why do you? It's much easier to deny him completely."

"Simply because, much as I hate him for what he's done to me in the past, God's also done a lot _for_ me. He's the reason I'm a genius, the reason I'm here at Wammy's…" _He gave me Matt._

"I wouldn't chalk that up to divine intervention either. There was always the chance that the rep would have passed the monastery. You could have been left behind there, stuck in the hands of those priests."

"How do you know about that?"

"Matt is not the only hacker on the premises, Mello. He's the first kid in the history of Wammy House to break into the system, even if he was only there for a few minutes. While I'm no where near as good as he is, I managed to hack his laptop, and I found the first half of the file he was after."

"Why?"

"I was curious about what he was trying so desperately to get into."

"It's more a hobby of his than anything else at this point." Mello answered sullenly. "My point, however, is that the rep didn't move on. She found the orphanage and now I'm here."

"It still a matter of circumstance…it could have gone either way."

"It didn't. That's what you're not seeing. Just because it didn't work out for you in the past, that doesn't mean that it doesn't happen, Near. There are far too many people in dangerous situations for us to make any kind of comprehensive study of it, but it happens. Some of them die, or are left rotting in whatever lives they got stuck with, and some, like us, are taken from them and made into something better."

"I can't bring myself to believe that God is paying enough attention to rescue anyone, much less you or me."

"And I can't bring myself to believe that he's completely ignoring us. I'm sorry, but I just can't. I've seen both sides of the coin, the loving side of the religion, and the vengeance of a God that wasn't taken seriously. I think I'm authorized to believe if I want."

"Is that what you think this is? A biased evaluation based on the theory that I haven't known God's love?"

"I can't see it as anything else. If you have, you wouldn't tell me, simply because that would make us too much alike. Possibly give us grounds for an uneasy friendship."

"I hate you too much to be your friend."

"Then you do not know what hatred is…and if you truly hated God the way I do, you wouldn't dare call yourself an Atheist."


	19. Breaking and Entering

"Mello! Mello, get up man! Now! Hey Mello!" If, for some reason or other, Matt didn't weigh a hundred pounds more than he should, Mello likely would have thrown the excited gamer across the room. Instead, years of training and his tripled paranoia since getting a roommate demanded that he at least punch him.

"Aw fuck you, man! Get up! Shit…almost broke my fucking nose!"

"Matt…get off me. Now." Mello suddenly realized that Matt had his backpack on, meaning that he was likely carrying all of his equipment with him. The explanation for the added pressure on Mello's ribcage did little to ease his irritation. There was absolutely no reason for his best friend to be in his room, perching on his chest and shaking him awake at…fuck, three in the God damned morning.

"Matt, what are you doing?" At the sound of Near's voice, Mello slid down the gutter from irritated to outright pissed off. There was no reason for Matt to be here, and there damn sure wasn't a reason for Near to be breathing the same air he was…much less talking to him.

"Near, I did it dude!"

"Matt, you're still sitting on me."

"Did what? Why is it so early?"

"Cuz I've been workin' dipshit! I broke Wammy!"

"You did what?!"

"MATT! GET THE FUCK OFF ME!"

"Mello, shut up, he's obviously onto something…"

"Yeah I know." Finally, _finally_, Matt swung off and Mello could breathe again… once several distractions were gone. He pulled himself up and groaned as the distinctive zip of the backpack filled the room, undercut by Matt's chatter. "He's just pissed cuz he can't have my body. Anyway, I finally bypassed the coding sector, and I've completely isolated the security. I'm in."

Mello dimly registered the insult, but then there was a blinding light, a light far too fucking bright to be in his fucking bed at fucking three in the morning.

"Why is it always three?", he wondered aloud as Matt began removing his implements of electronic thievery while his laptop booted. He positioned himself cross-legged at the foot of Mello's bed so he could talk to them both.

"You conscious yet? Here, I snagged some dark while I was packin'…I figured you'd bitch at me…"

Mello accepted the chocolate with his eyes still tightly shut, still muttering to himself. "I mean really, is it the hacker's witching hour? Why do important things always happen at three in the god damned morning?"

"Mello, be quiet. How far have you gotten, Matt?" The bed suddenly dipped even further, and oh, fuck no, Near was not sitting on his bed after three months of complete separation…He was, God damn it to hell. Mello wasn't awake enough to be intimidating yet, so he settled for a scowl and a mouthful of Ghirardelli.

"Three…fucking three…"

"I rode this bitch all the way back to Daddy, man.", Matt crowed. Mello cracked an eye, and was rewarded with quite possibly the strangest expression he'd ever seen on Near's face. The two of them never spent much time together, partially due to lack of interest, and partially because Mello was insanely jealous. Near was not used to Matt's many profane metaphors. "With another pack of cigarettes and some gum, I think I could re-write the entire security code, and have it compiled before the manual team logs on for the day."

Near leaned forward and picked up one of the whirring machines staring at it critically.

"Matt, you're amazing."

"Damn right he is…You mean you didn't…" Mello's drowsily voiced back-up froze as the magnitude of the situation finally cleared his mind. "Holy fuck…You _hacked_ Wammy? You mean you actually got into the system?!"

"Yes I know I'm the greatest, no need to fawn…"

"Is this a…playstation?" Recognition finally dawned on Near's face, and Matt's face lit up with pride.

"Kind of…not anymore. Plug it up while you've got it, and if you drop it, I swear I'll kill you."

"What does it do?"

"It's the hub for my hacking software…I scrapped the hard-drive of all executables and then did a little re-wiring. It still reads my CDs and changes the data to a video signal, but there no central processing…meaning that Wammy can't shut it down or freeze it up, and I can monitor the program from my actual laptop."

"What did you replace the controllers with?"

"USB ports…I also added two more CD drives to it…they're on the back." Matt took the toy back and began plugging in his laptops. Mello moved to help, feeling smugly superior that he knew Matt's system well enough to rub one more thing in Near's face. Matt pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and Mello idly tossed him the lighter he'd just uncovered in the pocket with the CDs.

"I wish you wouldn't smoke." Near said, tugging his hair.

"And I give a fuck why?" Mello bit his tongue to keep from laughing at that. The fact that Matt wasn't even trying to be friendly just added to his steadily lightening mood. Matt was positively alive, and it was obvious that they'd never hear the end of this. Mello secured himself a laptop and rested back against his pillows, watching Matt instantly slave the system and begin working.

Near did the same, almost tentatively, but his eyes were brighter than normal too even in the dark. "Are they aware of you yet?"

"No, not this time. We're clear until someone logs on."

"Why?"

"It's a back up to make sure I stay clear…it'll kick me off to avoid a cross-reference, and this annoying little interference program they've got...it was such a bitch to get around, man. Took me three months at least, just to find its mother, much less secure an entry into the code so I could bypass. Mello, I need Sixteen, Jacks, and Asdf."

Mello began sifting through the CDs, noting with a growing smugness how Near's nose twitched in envy. There were at least thirty CDs in the pocket, all with strange names and up to four hacking programs each. It was Matt's legacy, all of his compiled work, the result of his slaving over these machines night and day in his quest to break the system. This was huge, bigger even than Mello's first time touching a person.

At least to Matt, anyway.

Mello handed his hacker the CDs and then sat back with his laptop. "Can you hack the rank listings?"

"Mmhmm…just gimme a sec to secure a door." Matt pulled his goggles down and frowned at the screen. The sound of rapid typing rang for about five minutes, and then he began loading CDs into the jerry-rig. The playstation hummed and whirred and windows popped up on Mello's screen too, text scrolling by as the programs asserted themselves and set to work. Matt counted to five, and a beep from the computer was his signal to put the final disk in. The program opened like a set of fireworks going off, instantly linking different components from the other disks and melding them into one program.

"Okay, got the ghost…and now we hack." The ghost was the program that Asdf built from the other three disks…because it had no central programming code, it couldn't be shut down by Wammy's usual methods. If this worked, that meant that not only could they not shut it down, they'd have to spend time developing another code to even recognize it, and then begin studying his method. Matt had definitely made Wammy history.

A moment later the familiar Wammy central screen appeared… a common sight on the Professor's screens around the school.

"Alright, we have half an hour of playtime. What's first?"

Near's eyes were roaming the screen eagerly. "Ranking. Definitely."

"Yeah."

They watched Matt enter a few modifications to his coding, and then he began working through the system files. A window popped up, and Matt began narrating. "Okay this is the rank database, but it's separated into categories. Overall scores, rank by field, rank by class, rank by performance…the list goes on."

Near and Mello glanced at each other over Matt's computer. "All of them."

"Yes Sir…" Matt grinned wickedly beneath his goggles, and the screens began flashing. "Over all Scores, by rank: Psuedo- Near at 101.297, Psuedo- Mello at 101 even, and Me, of course, at 100.3."

"I expected as much." Mello remarked, studying the listing.

Near nodded. "You're not far behind at all…two tests could take that lead. Check Field next."

"Field it is then." Another moment of quiet clicking and the security greened them. The list appeared. "Okay, we're going for criminal investigation…detective rankings."

Near frowned, seeing his name at the top and someone else's below. "Mello's not on this list."

"That's because you're ranked as an Analytical Detective…Mello should be…here, under Vigilante."

"We have a Vigilante rank?" Mello said around his chocolate bar, his interest piqued.

"Yeah, it's a nicer way of saying bounty hunter…" Matt began clicking, his fingers rapid over the keyboard as he pulled a few strings. "Now the two of you are in competition for L's title, and his field is a combination of these two, Freelance Detective. There's currently no listing, meaning that you two haven't shared enough courses to qualify."

Near nodded. "So…by August or so, we should be in true competition for it."

"Maybe sooner, if we play our cards right. We'll have to check the weighted classes later." Mello frowned at his screen. "We have half an hour though…that should be enough to print it, or at least write some of them down. We can plan our courses for next semester by exchanging the heavy classes…that should balance us out faster."

"You two have fun with that…And…here I am, top of my game as a Freelance Hacker and Programmer, specializing in code breaking." Matt read off smugly, taking a drag off his cigarette. "Bite me, Neo, you'll always be second. Now, moving on to performance, and skipping class. I don't care about the freshman and whatnot."

"Agreed." The others nodded.

"Rank by performance…Mello at 124.02, Near at 111.73, and Me at 110."

Mello winced, his pride flaring. "Ouch…"

Near just nodded. "You've taken fewer courses than I have, and excelled at them all…"

"It'll even out once I catch up then." Mello shifted the laptop on his knees, still grinning at the dark chocolate and the knowledge that he had a small lead on Near in something at least. "How much time do we have left?"

Matt glanced at his watch, because he didn't trust his computer clocks anymore. "Roughly fifteen minutes."

Mello sat back and frowned, an idea striking him.

"…Can you hack L's file?" Green and black eyes fell on him immediately, but the green ones held a sparkle.

Matt chuckled suddenly, and blew smoke at his screen. "Damn it Mello…I finally accomplish my life's work, and what do you do? You find something else for me to obsess over…"

"Gotta pay you for the chocolate somehow." Mello watched him work for another few minutes.

"All I can get right now is his course listing…the rest says it's been deleted."

Mello sighed, but Near shook his head. "No it hasn't…they never really delete things. There's always a ghost memory in the system…you can get to it."

"Yeah," Matt nodded, "…give me a week or so. We'll get in."

XXXX

Near hung back, watching the stairs apprehensively as the other two worked. Matt had a single computer and his electronic tools on the floor next to him. Mello stood ready at his side. Another glance down the stairs and Near froze. A shadow passed over the wall at the landing, but then continued on, leaving the moonlight undisturbed.

"Matt, you need to hurry." Near spat, tugging nervously at his hair.

"Noooo…I don't. Hurrying means mistakes, means alarms, means caught anyway."

"Just shut up and let him work Near..."

"How did you two talk me into this…"

Mello rolled his eyes. "We just found L's dorm number, and the fact that it is locked. Why is it locked? Why has no other Wammy Child stayed in L's room? That is why you're fucking curious, but if it's really bothering you so badly, why don't you just go back to bed?"

"Mello, you're quite annoying."

The little remarks like that were the ones that got under his skin, and he wasn't entirely sure why they bothered him so much. He felt a minor impulse to throw the knife in his hands…why not add murder to his list of sins?

"Okay," Matt said quietly, "Mello, ready…the system is off in five, four, three…"

Mello planted his feet and waited. A small beep and a sharp nod from Matt and he moved. Placing his foot flat along the wall, he stepped up on the hinge and grabbed the middle with his free hand for support. The blade went up, over his head, and he began working at the hinge pin. A second later, it clattered to the floor and he stepped down.

The second was harder, and he mentally cursed himself for dulling his knife…it had better be worth it. The second fell, and Matt picked them both up as Mello crouched to work the third.

"Time?"

"It's cool man…you still have five minutes."

"Did you really think," Mello muttered, working the last free and handing it off to be placed in one of Matt's many pockets, "That it would take me five minutes?"

"I didn't even think of the hinges, actually." The doorknob had been replaced by a smooth metal panel and an electrical lock tied into the Wammy mainframe. There technically was nothing to pick. The anarchist's handbook states that when one cannot pick a door, the next option is to remove it completely. Mello tended to agree, and as he shoved the blade between the frame and panel, he marveled at how…easy, this was going. It made him paranoid.

The door swung outward and the two of them caught it easily. Cracking it just enough so that the new contact would register when the system came back on, they both frowned when met with a wall of blackness.

"No windows?"

"Risk the light?"

"Depends…"

Near stood and came to stand next to Matt, regarding the darkness. "There's a window two feet from the left corner on the back wall."

Matt stared at him. "How do you know?"

"Because," Mello answered, cutting him off. "There's light under all the other doors…moonlight. The window placement should be the same since it's the same dorm hall…"

Near nodded. "Yes. It's likely covered by something. I'll get it."

"Wait!" The other two yelled as he stepped forward, both of them gripping his shoulder. Mello pulled back as though he'd burned himself, but Matt just shook him for a minute.

"Jesus, haven't you broken into anything before?"

"Of course not, Matt, he's a detective."

Matt pulled him back and pulled out his key ring. There was nary a key on it, just a bunch of flash drives and tiny penlight. He knelt and shone it around muttering under his breath about obnoxious do-gooders. After a moment he pulled his bag over and took out his magnet set. "There is always a secondary."

"What is it?"

"Basic trip wire…The system is only off for another three minutes. Hold on." He pulled out two metallic disks, small magnets, and checked the polarity. After a moment's consideration, he pulled a length of wire from the box and motioned Mello over as he began tying the two magnets to the ends of it. "Look, there's a small current running through the trip wire, and if it breaks-"

"The alarm sounds."

"Right. Since, I know what I'm doing I'm stepping inside to cover it. You keep the light, but don't move it until I say go. Keep it smooth, and just slide it down, pushing the other off." He demonstrated, then disappeared into the dark. There was small twang as he plucked the wire, getting his bearings.

"Ready?"

"Two minutes, Matt.", Near said over Mello's shoulder.

"And…now…" A small click and the tighter wire fell to the floor. The longer length Matt had cut lay curling into the dark. "Okay, go Near. Just don't trip on it."

Mello jumped in surprise as Near quietly leapt over both him and the wire. He landed softly in his socks, and then faded away into the dark. "He just…"

"Jumped over you…", Matt whispered back. "Yeah, I saw it man. Weird."

The room was filled with moonlight as Near pulled what appeared to be a blanket from the window. Mello, the last to enter, was the first to notice the bed was messy. It struck him as odd…the detective actually sleeping. The rest of the room was absolutely bare. Marks in the dust showed that even when there had been personal objects in the room, they had not been moved for a long time. Near wandered over to the closet and Matt checked the desk. Mello contented himself with just looking.

"Mello…look at this." It was Near. Mello bit his tongue and walked over to glance into the closet. It was completely empty, with bare hangers in one corner, and shelving at the bottom.

"What am I looking at?"

Near knelt, peering into the biggest space between the shelving and the floor. "The size of this…"

Mello glanced between the small space and Near for a moment, when something about the way he was crouching dawned on him. "Hey Matt…Come here."

Mello stared at the top of his gamer's head, and then slowly up. He imagined the detective, standing above him, and something clicked. "He hid there."

"I think so…" Near pulled out of the space and stared at him. Mello knelt next to him for a moment, and then crawled in, crouching like L had when they first met. He fit perfectly, with some room to spare. Near's eyes widened.

"He…sat in here? That much?"

"He had to…It just fits too well."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

A phone rang. The shrill ringing made all three of them jump, causing Mello to hit his head and curse for a few minutes. He crawled out and they all stared at the desk. The phone fell quiet shortly.

"That phone,", Matt started. "Was dead when I checked it a second ago."

As though to spite him the phone rang again. It's shrill cry echoed down the hall, and Near's mind finally began to work again. "They'll hear it…some answer it."

"How can we it answer it! It was fucking dead, man!"

Mello pushed him out of the way and snatched the receiver up. "What?"

"Shouldn't all three of you be in bed?" He felt the blood drain from his face at the detective's voice. He turned to stare at the other two, shock on his face.

"L?" Near's eyes widened slowly, but Matt was already pacing. He'd been caught…

"Mello, put me on speaker phone…"

"I…yeah…okay…", Mello numbly started pressing buttons until the receiver went dead in his ear, and a static filled the room from the small machine. L's voice, slightly louder now, came over the speaker.

"Matt, congratulations on your success, but I'm afraid I have to lock you out now."

Matt froze, staring at the machine. "But…"

"I'll give you three days to play with Wammy, but that's all I can allow. Now…all of you, kindly replace the hinges on my door and go back to bed."

A chorus of protests sounded.

"Boys…listen." All three fell quiet, in various stages of annoyance and pouting.

"You got into my room. There's nothing there, in case you didn't notice. Unless you plan to make my bed for me, it's just like any other dorm room at Wammy's. I'm sorry. However…I am very proud of you. All three of you. Now, go to bed. Good night."

A click, and the dead tone of an empty line sounded.


	20. A Matter Too Serious

AN- Long and important. Back to being serious here, I'm getting ready to end the story soon. Two more chapters. I didn't go into detail about the class because I'd likely get kicked off FF. There's...a lot to this chapter. Any and all feed back is welcome. Thank you. -Kani

Mello sat idly in one of the ten desks in the library, reading his bible and waiting for the class and professor to show up. This was the first course he'd take with Near, directly by choice, and he was already hating the idea. The class was limited to ten students, and it only lasted three weeks. One had to meet a certain performance standard and undergo a series of personality tests before being admitted…meaning that this was, in fact, one of the hardest courses Wammy had to offer. Mello felt himself smirk in anticipation…he'd always loved a challenge, and while his performance record was no longer spotless, he didn't see the point in wasting his time. There were courses he'd dropped out of halfway through, simply because they weren't difficult enough to hold his attention. His age and maturity had opened up new classes, new opportunity formerly denied him, and he was filling his schedule to the point that Roger himself had to cut him back.

So now, in July the summer of 2004, Mello was taking adult courses. He glanced up as the door opened, and Near shuffled in, one hand firmly on his puzzle-bag strap and the other shoved into his pocket. They'd managed to alter their schedules to the point that they could co-exist. They'd take whatever courses they had to share in the morning, when they were at their best, and then part ways for the rest of the day. They never spoke when they returned to the dorm. Some nights, Mello would beat him there to study, and some nights, he went to study in Matt's room. Matt himself had refused to take any more courses for the time being, because he'd found his purpose again. L had successfully locked him out of the Wammy Mainframe by the third day, as promised, and Matt's 'lifework' resumed its usual course. He'd discovered the beauty of a Playstation 2, and added that to his armada. In truth…none of them really spoke much anymore. They were content to co-exist, to grow together, instead of apart. Near and Mello still didn't like each other, but if nothing else, rooming together had taught them both some patience. Usually, if Mello went into a rant, it's because he felt like it, not because Near deserved it, and if Near hid all of his chocolate and replaced his wardrobe with white clothing…well…Mello did deserve it. It was a balance, if not a pleasant one…it allowed them to continue working, competing.

At least until the exams…then the balance began to fall apart. It began with a point lead, with Mello sitting on his bed staring at his unopened result-envelope, something akin to fear and loathing in his blood. It began with the crowd of students following Near around, the echoing congratulations sounding down the hall before Near said something rude, and they dissipated. It began when the door opened, and Near came in to find him there, his little white envelope still unopened at the foot of his bed. Mello didn't need to open it. He already knew, and the word traveled the school quickly when it came to rank. The rank listings were only posted in the foyer twice a year, in the spring and fall. It left much to the imagination, until those damn lists were finally on the wall, and then suspicions and fears were set in stone.

Near had topped him this year…and badly. Mello didn't even need to open his envelope to know that…in fact, those first exam results were still in his desk drawer. That was how it began…but not how it would end, even if Mello lost his mind trying to win. Every test, every report, everything…he'd win by a few inches, only to have Near slowly and maddeningly pull ahead of him again. It was something nearly unbearable. That, if nothing else, made rooming with his silent rival hell. That, if not what started the rage, made him continue to hate Near.

Near was slowly showing him up, making him feel like a fool, an imposter for the title of L. In truth, he supposed he was, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter because Mello _wanted_ it now…it mattered, mattered more than anything in the world now, because Near was taking it from him. _Near_.

Nothing was forgiven, nothing settled. The day he'd kicked the insipid little bastard in the mouth still rang true in his memory, and it would forever mark the day he began to hate Near. He'd feared, respected, disliked before. The day he'd told Matt, the day he'd made everything change, again…that was something Mello wouldn't let go of.

Much like Near had his own reasons…only half an hour before that blow, when they'd fought in front of L, his benefactor…that was when Near's hatred began. The title of L was much more than a title. It was his inheritance. He was fighting Mello for his very _future_, and the other boy treated it as though it were some kind of game. It was much more complicated than that, but if it were a game between them…fine. However, it was a game that he couldn't afford to lose.

They sat together in silence for another three minutes, and then the other students filed in. Each came as an individual, and without a glance, they all knew each other to be Wammy Elite, the top of the class, and among the highest-ranking minds in the world, even as children. Three years ago, Mello would have found the prospect daunting, but he sat here now, calm as ever, because he knew. He knew that now that not only did belong here…he was almost the best. He cut his eyes at Near only once as the door closed, and they all took their seats.

Almost.

Fifteen minutes were spent waiting for their professor, with Near at his right, and eight other faces alongside them. Near was putting together an action figure, pulling random body parts from his bag and shoving them into place with sharp clicks. Mello finished the Old Testament and tucked the book into his pocket.

The door opened again, and Mello forgot to breathe for a second. L said nothing as he shut the door with a foot, surveying his class. Even Near missed his bag the first time he tried to shove his toy into it, his eyes widened slightly in his shock.

"Good morning."

There was a muttered response, but as Mello looked around no one else seemed to recognize the detective as anything more than another eccentric professor. He and Near exchanged curious glances.

"My name is Deneuve, and you will address me as such." That made sense…he was not acting as L here. Mello relaxed a bit into his seat, his heart still in his throat. "Now, you have all subscribed to this course, Introduction to Interrogation, because you feel you are qualified, and ready for it."

There was shifting of students in seats as some doubts re-surfaced, and other's resolve strengthened. L just studied each of them in turn, still standing by the door. "I know that you are not."

Near frowned, drawing his leg up. The unease was mutual. "Furthermore, I know that half of you will drop this course by the end of the week, and likely a few more before the exam."

Mello shivered despite himself, his smirk returning as he leaned forward in his seat again, hanging on L's every word. "This is not a fun class, it is not a pretty class, and it is not an easy course. I am here to teach you how to break open the human mind and elicit any information you desire…even information you put there yourself."

"This class will be difficult, because it is not a matter of how skilled you are at something, how hard you study, or how determined you may be. This class is based off your ability to detach, to get what you need and to do it as quickly as possible. In the future, lives may be at risk, time may be your enemy, and your subject is never, under any circumstances, your friend. This is more than a matter of life and death; this is a matter of Humanity. It is a matter of quick thinking and efficiency. It is a matter of murder and redemption, and becoming everything you hate and fear in the endeavor to preserve justice…to determine what is right, you must first know what it is to be wrong." L finally moved to lean on his desk, dragging ten sets of eyes with him.

"In this course, you will learn to break the human soul down into its basic components and then use these pieces to get your answers. You cannot yet grasp the true meaning of that, and I don't expect to see many of you past this introduction, because when it does finally dawn on you, you will not be able to handle it. Some of you are looking at me as though I am insane, and some as though you wish to leave already." The detective paused, glancing over the class. "Therefore, let me say this. I know that this course isn't meant for children. If, at any time, you feel the need to leave, you may do so, and this course will not damage your ranking, or your current grades. Leave, and it will not even appear upon your history. No one here at Wammy will think any less of you, and that is not an empty sentiment. This is not for everyone."

"If it were any other course, I'd give the customary warning about taking it to heart, and putting your best effort in. However, as you will come to realize...this is simply a matter too serious for that to be enough. You will come to realize that you either can do this…or you can't."

L paused to let that sink in. "Now, let me say this. I am a detective, and I was a Wammy Child. I will not be teaching the entire course, because there is a case developing that I need to attend to. I will be here for the introduction, because I feel that it is deadly important for this to be presented to you as truthfully and openly as possible. Others would try to make light of the issue. I will not. I would only be doing you a disservice by not preparing you for what lies ahead. So, everyone take out a fresh sheet of paper, take a deep breath, and Welcome to Interrogation…"

XXXX

"Do you know how long you'll be gone?" Near asked, pulling at his hair again. Mello said not a word, standing off to one side next to the fire. L glanced between them both and sighed.

"No…I don't. This is not your average case…Kira is something I have never come across before."

"This is your last time at Wammy's…until the case is solved." Mello stated, still leaning on the mantle. "Because you won't risk bringing Kira back to the orphanage."

"You are my successors…it would hardly do for the two of you to be killed before I am."

"You won't be killed." Mello stated, and he believed it. Matt sat in on this meeting, called in because the Detective had keeping an eye on him ever since he first broke Wammy. He spoke up from the chair that L usually claimed. "Mind if I follow the case, at least? I won't interfere or anything…I just want to know what's going on."

L frowned at him for a moment, but then nodded. "If you can, yes. That's all I have to say on the matter."

"Kira is dangerous." Near remarked from the floor, and Mello came to stand by Matt's chair. The detective glanced at the ceiling for a moment, but then smiled.

"Yes I know, but Kira is also challenging, and something that I cannot let go. They are turning out to be the best criminal I've ever gone against, and that is why I must go. I simply cannot let them continue."

"We understand that, we're just not happy about it." Matt muttered, crossing his arms. He'd instantly taken a liking to the man, and now he pouted, pulling his goggles down sullenly over his eyes. He'd upgraded to orange a few months ago. L just smiled at the three of them.

"You all know that I will return as soon as it is safe. I expect you to keep learning, and also…to be prepared for the day that I don't come back. It is a possibility…one we cannot afford to overlook, so be ready. I trust you will know what to do."

Mello just shook his head, leaning on Matt's chair. "Just come back. We don't care how or when, as long as you come back. We have unfinished business."

XXXX

"Mello…I'm sorry."

"I really don't care if you're sorry. It's not a matter of desires, just skill and efficiency. It's just another test."

"It's more than that to us, and you know this."

"Near, I don't want to talk about it."

"And I don't want to put up with your attitude because you lost another round."

"You're wasting your time…"

"…Perhaps I am."

XXXX

"I'm just saying man…you never talk to me anymore." Mello glanced up from his homework and kept himself from smiling. Matt's system was spread across the floor while Mello claimed the bed for himself, studying.

"It's just something that needs to be done."

Matt rolled his eyes and talked around the cigarette in his mouth. "Yeah, yeah…just another obsession, maybe."

"You're one to speak of obsessions…this what…year three?"

"L is challenging me. I've noticed that every few weeks a new update is made to the system. I think he's writing them himself, just to teach me."

"He's the man to learn from, that's certain. Have you gotten any closer?"

Matt nodded, grinning. "Oh yeah…The updates just set me back a few days. Once, I got really close, and someone re-wrote the entire script."

"But…" Mello frowned. "Wouldn't that make all of your Programs useless?"

"Not all of them…a good majority though. They're over there." Matt waved towards his desk and Mello's eyes widened to find almost fifty disks stacked around the laptop he used for development.

"Damn…"

"Yeah…Luckily, some of the important ones were open-script." Matt frowned suddenly as his computer beeped, and then sighed when it began shutting down. "These are the updates I hate…they just lock the entire fucking system, and manually shut my station down. I don't have time to compile whatever script I was working on, and I have to worm my way back in once the computers come back up."

"Why do you hack and program at the same time?"

"It's kind of like carrying on two conversations at once…and if I did them separately, it'd take me that much longer. If I write while I'm working the mainframe, I can adjust according to whatever the system wants from me, making it an easier transition…kind like sanding off a fraction of wood to make it fit instead of cutting another one."

"Makes sense to me." Mello returned to his homework.

"What are you working on, anyway?"

"Reviewing my interrogations notes."

Matt shivered. "Man, I have heard some horror stories coming out of that class."

"Yep."

"How can you stand it?" Matt put his cigarette out and Mello noticed that he'd become so accustomed to the smell that he hardly noticed it anymore. He tossed his hacker the pack from the nightstand.

"I guess…violence is nothing to new to me. I've been on the receiving end of a few of these techniques before, so really, I'm just learning why they worked now."

"Is it true that most of the class dropped before L left?"

"Yeah…it was just Near, myself, and some other kid when the course ended."

Matt nodded. "Why do you think he can tolerate it?"

"I really don't know." Mello shrugged. "I think part of it is the fact that I can, and he's trying to out do me."

"Yeah but…that's a bit much, just to make a point."

"He doesn't have anything to prove to me. I've also considered the possibility that his life wasn't perfect before he got here either."

"Mello…" Matt frowned at him and paused to light his cigarette. "Not every kid at Wammy's has some kind of horror story. So he's a little freaky…that doesn't mean much these days."

"No, it's more than that, Matt. There's something wrong with him, something off."

"I'll say…the guy's just creepy."

Mello chuckled and Matt stretched before settling into his work again. Mello found himself drawing on the edges of his notes, something that he rarely did. Matt's voice broke his reverie.

"You know what I miss?"

"What?"

"I never thought I'd say this, but I miss hearing the bible." Mello glanced up at him, surprised.

"Really?"

"Yeah…especially in Italian." Matt bit his lip thinking as he reached to the left and typed on two keyboards simultaneously. Mello had seen the class listing for single-hand typing, and thought it was for handicapped students. Matt had proved him wrong. "I miss you reading to me. Things have changed…a lot. I just miss the old times…when we could relax."

Before he'd found out, Mello's mind supplied, and a flash of pain in his chest caught him off-guard. "Yeah…"

"Back before everything started changing…before Near became a daily part of your life, and before I got obsessed with this Wammy bullshit. Those were the good days."

"Are they over?"

"No…of course not." Matt grinned at him. " I mean…you're sitting here, talking to me, aren't you? I just meant that as we got older, things have been moving without us…you know?"

"Yeah…"

"And I kind of miss the days when we had all the time in the world…"

"I know."

"I kind of feel like…now that things aren't simple anymore, they never will be again."

"Matt?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't think I ever thanked you."

Matt gave him an odd look. "Thanked me? Are you kidding? No way…"

Mello felt his throat tighten but Matt cut him off before he could say anything else. "When you find someone you connect with…someone who makes everything make sense, whether you actually understand it or not…you don't let them go. Yeah, so you go through some shit, you fight, and you get over it, but in the end…it's better than it was before. Fighting is part of friendship…it makes the bond stronger when you go back to each other. Being able to say that you've been hurt, and that's okay…that's where the friendship is. I was never an overly religious person, Mello, and to be honest…I'm still not. But…" Matt glanced at him and went back to his computers, "I didn't have to be, because someone up there was shoving things around for me, you know? I mean, I don't think I would have found you had I not come to Wammy. If that's not a higher power jacking with my life, I don't know what is. So…if things change, fine. They get better, or I make do. It's that simple. Don't thank me for something I didn't have much to do with. You're my best friend, and that's good enough me."

And Christ, Mello loved him.

XXXX

"_Things change…that is the one piece of knowledge that never changes, and never lies. Facts set in stone only last for so long, because even stone wears away. Stone can break and chip, become lost on the wind as sand and a memory. Everything changes. Things that don't change, truth that cannot be re-written, will eventually fade, and cease to exist. Truth, is only truth, when the pieces fit. When the puzzle of life gives you a piece that does not fit…change it. Make it real. Life is ours to make of it what we will, and at the same time, we are limited by it. Life and reality play deadly games…but things change. Whether we're ready or not…things always change."_

"Mello, wake up." There was a hand at his shoulder, always a hand there, even when he was willing, guiding him down into the water.

"Mello, wake up." The water, where there was only cold, where no one could hear him…

"Mello!"

"_Mihael!"_

"Mello!"

"_Mihael!"_

"Mello wake up!" The hand at his shoulder, gripping and it hurt…cold.

"_Mihael! Recite it!"_

"I…I am a heretic and I have sinned! I have gazed…upon the forbidden flesh of my fellow men with lust in my heart, and I am damned. I am a heretic….I am…Father Forgive…Father…"

"MELLO!" Cold…hands…

Mello woke with a violent start, gasping for air as water streamed down his face, choking him. He struck blindly and a muffled yelp told him he'd made contact, but the spatter of blood across his knuckles and forearm only furthered his panic. Oh god, he'd struck the priest…

"D-Domine Iesu! Domine Iesu! Dimitte nobis debita nostra, salva-"

"MELLO, Damn it, Wake up!" There a weight a across him, and a white child came into view trying to pin him down.

Near.

Mello.

Wammy.

Mello fell back against his pillows, panting. The glassy look slowly left his eyes and he suddenly realized that he'd woken from a dream. There was no water to be found, but the blood on his arm was real enough. He looked up to see Near scowling at him, his brow split cleanly near the edge.

"You'll be the death of me, you fool."

"I'm fine…let me go."

"Next time I'll let you suffer…" He watched as near practically flew across the four foot gap between their beds and wiped the blood on his blanket instead of his white pajamas.

"I woke you?"

"It's not the first time."

"Why'd you interfere?"

"You've woken me twice a week at least since we became roommates. I simply chose to watch."

"Why'd you interfere?" Mello repeated, still recovering.

Near paused to look at him. "You kept muttering about the cold…and then you started drowning."

"…Twice a week?"

"Yes…though you've only relived the drowning about five times…this was the worst of them I think. You actually held your breath."

"I'd have passed out and started breathing again…you didn't have to wake me."

"Pardon me my humanity. Next time I'll let you carry on."

"Why haven't you said anything about it?"

"What are you going to do? Stop? You can't help it, Mello, it would have been a pointless argument. I used to listen, back when I was trying to figure you out, because they were never that bad…you'd recite a prayer, or that ridiculous mantra, and then you were quiet again."

"I'd have done the same, I think."

"I know, that's why I don't feel guilty."

"You didn't have to wake me."

"After that lovely uppercut, I don't think you'll have to worry about it again." Near felt his brow tenderly, frowning slightly. "But you're not the only that dreams, Mello."

Mello watched him for a moment, then sighed. "Go back to sleep…"

"I take you'll be awake for a bit then?"

"Yes." He couldn't go back to sleep…not after that.

"Very well. Turn the light on, it won't bother me." Near remarked as he slid under the blanket. Mello instinctively reached for his bible, but once it was in his hand…he couldn't bring himself to read it. Instead, he just held it in his lap, watching the moonlight and shadows play over the English moor and their beds.


	21. Frustration

AN- Lots of movement. Moving forward here, so watch the dates.-Kani_  
_

_September 29__th__, 2004_

"How the _Hell_ is he ahead of me again?" Mello gritted out through clenched teeth, his fists making the chains on the punching bag ring.

"Hell if I know, man. It's not like I'm keeping score." Matt was perched on the bench next him, his Gameboy running, and his laptop in standby while a new program finished a test run. The weekly rank listing that had just become available by subscription ran today. Just when Mello finally convinced his gamer to take a break from his hacking, the damn envelope went out, and Mello made the mistake of opening this one.

The huge red bag swung again as Mello spun and drove his foot into it, the sand wrapping itself briefly around his ankle upon impact. Back in his tank, despite the chilly autumn air coming in through the gym's vents, he was now trying to calm down. The sight of the those numbers, the sheer black and white that yes, Near was better than he was…it was going to drive him crazy. The only consolation in this letter was that Mello had beaten him in L's course.

But, was that a consolation, really? All things considered?

He flung himself at the leather again, and Matt glanced up, completely bored and unimpressed. "He really pisses you off, doesn't he?"

"Like no other."

"Oh that stung, Mello. I mean damn." Matt dramatically flung a hand over his heart, pretending to die. Mello didn't even blink and he sat up again, rolling his eyes. "You are uptight. Why don't you go shoot instead?"

"I don't think Roger would let me, considering my mood."

"Who said he had to know?"

"You think you can hack the weaponry for me?"

"Sure…just as soon as this code finishes."

"Any news on the case yet?" Mello asked as he grabbed the bag and eased it to stop. Matt nodded, frowning.

"He's got it down to a region of Japan, and he's begun referring to Kira as a 'he' rather than a 'they' but that's all he'll give me. I don't know of any suspects, or…" Matt rolled his eyes, and then paused the game to look at Mello directly. "Hell, Mello, I don't know anything. He's keeping this Kira thing under tight lock…"

"I expected as much. He wouldn't risk it."

"All I know is that he's building a skeleton file here at Wammy…the tiniest pieces of information. It's likely to jumpstart you in case he doesn't come back. Kind of like bookmarks, I guess."

"He'll be back. I have to admit though, I am getting curious about this case. Are you sure you can't get anymore out of him?"

"Daddy don't play, Mello. He's not giving me shit."

"Fine." The chains sung again for another few minutes before he brought the bag to a stop again, panting. "How far into the system have you gotten?"

"He's made it into a game…I can only unlock so many parts at a time, and that only through limited access to other sections." Matt replied sullenly, flicking ash to the floor. "What are you looking for?"

"Course listings. Near's taking something to supplement his workload, and I want to know what it is."

XXXX

_October 17__th__, 2004_

"What do you mean he's taking MY courses?!"

Matt held his hands up. "Look, the system doesn't lie, Mello. Near's ahead of you now because he's taking all of your courses. That gives him roughly-"

"…A two year lead. He's ahead simply because of the numbers." Mello finished, numb. "He caught up to me by taking the same courses I did…and we're even now, so-"

"Experience trumps determination. Mello you know what this means, don't you?"

"Yeah…It means that I won't catch up." Mello paused as it sunk in, running a hand through his hair. "Mary, I _can't_ catch up…I'm already working on six hours of sleep. I can't handle any more classes."

"Roger wouldn't allow it anyway…you might find a professor who's willing to coach you over dinner, but the course wouldn't be legitimate."

Mello stared across the range at the pitiful broken gel-head of the target. A portion of the jaw remained, and that was about it. He began reloading, all his stress and frustration coming back five-fold. "I'll never catch up to the bastard."

"Mello?" Matt didn't like the expression on his face. Mello didn't hear him.

"It's fucking impossible…I can't…Son of a bitch!" Snap, click, and the pistol unloaded with a steady roar into the targets stomach, gel flying. He would gut the damn thing before he left…no, better yet, when the class came in the next day, there wouldn't be a fucking dummy there. There would just be a pole with little bits of latex stuck to it.

Matt slowly put his headphones back on and left him alone.

Mello would catch up…he had to. L would come back, and there would be more courses, heavy courses, that would balance everything out again. It was just a matter of time…Mello would win. Mello had to win.

XXXX

November 5th, 2004

The house was dark, and quiet. Mello slid down the hall, past the lounge on his floor, where the dim glow of a television reminded him that quiet did not mean asleep. Barefoot, he moved down the dorm wing to the stairs, and paused for a moment to look down the two stories to the floor. Wammy house had five floors, built in the shape of a double eight, with three courtyards, four wings and two main halls. Quite the playground for a young boy to practice his thieving skills, but Mello was not out to play tonight. He walked up the next flight and then down two halls, to the solitary floors above the offices on the ground. He knew that, most likely, Roger was roughly sixty feet below him, awake and keeping his vigil on the new children. Mello often found him there on nights he couldn't sleep and didn't dare re-enter Matt's room. The last time he'd gone in unannounced had sent him running, led to one of the gravest fights they'd ever been in.

Which is why he wasn't entirely sure why he was going up the stairs, instead of down…towards his gamer's room. He told himself he wanted to talk, to study and relax, away from Near. Even when the boy slept, Mello couldn't stand his presence. What he told himself and what the evidence told him were two different things, however. He'd left all his notes and books in the room, and to be honest…Mello wanted to do anything but talk. He'd become very quiet, unless he was harassing the other children, and for once it had nothing to with repentance or faith.

He was obsessed with becoming the best Wammy had to offer, and he knew it. It was all he could talk about; think about…all he had time for. The few hours he wasn't asleep or studying, he was working off his frustration in the gym or the range. He knew it bothered Matt, but because it had become his focus, the center of all his work, he had little else to talk about. He missed the days when he and Matt would sneak off to a library and waste the afternoon, both tired from work and wanting nothing more than tolerable company. He missed the smell of cigarettes, and the sound of Matt muttering darkly to people that only existed on a three inch screen.

He missed Matt. The fact came to him and left him dry in the mouth as he stood before his hacker's door. There was no sound, no lights, and the smell of ash and smoke was faint. It was late…very late…so late in fact, that it was almost early, and he found himself again asking questions that he didn't want the answers to. Why now, when he knew that Matt had crashed and was getting his four hours of sleep for the next two days?

He knew there were other reasons that he'd been avoiding this place, this person. Things were slowly becoming difficult for him…things that before, had never crossed his mind. He knew it was easier to avoid Matt altogether than try to explain his withdrawal. The few times he did allow himself Matt's company, he blamed his obsession for his silence. It was the one service the addiction did for him, providing that excuse.

He'd tried, hard, to tell himself that there was nothing to worry about. He'd chalked it up to stress, and the fact that Matt was there, all the time, whenever he needed him to be. It was simple, and completely out of his control.

It was complicated, and an easy problem to fix.

All he had to do was stop…stop everything, stop coming to his room, stop watching him work. Ending a friendship to save it…that was something he'd considered twice already. The only thing that had held him back, that had kept it from working…was Matt himself. Matt refused to give up on him. Matt stuck with him, even after he learned Mello's secret. Matt had not only punished him for his attempt to detach the first time, but even helped him through the aftermath.

Even now, he remembered how warm those shoulders had been under his hands. The hands that were pushing open the familiar door, the one he'd sat beneath, prayed through, and most recently been pulled past to study. He remembered feeling Matt's heartbeat dimly under his bare hands, echoing up from his chest.

For the hundredth time tonight, Mello asked himself what he was doing.

There was no answer…not because one didn't exist, but because he refused to hear it. There were some things that even he wouldn't acknowledge…it simply wasn't worth the required prayer-time.

Matt lay sprawled on his bed, a half-gone cigarette hanging from his fingers. Mello stepped inside and shut the door, and just inhaled for a moment. Mello didn't smoke…his addiction had slightly different terms.

His goggles hung across his bare chest, and Mello's instinct to bolt in terror returned. He held himself firm, because for once…God wasn't what he needed. There's been little communication in the way of his faith lately, and he found himself not caring. Things changed…things always changed.

He'd changed. He'd grown, standing there now at fourteen, tall and slender and loud with life. He'd grown up, and more importantly, he felt he'd grown into a slightly different person. Perhaps courtesy of the boy sleeping a few feet away, perhaps simply because Roger was right…he couldn't live like he had forever.

…It was mostly Matt, he thought.

What was he doing here? This didn't serve a purpose, promised only to bring him pain, remind him…remind him of what was important? Perhaps. Remind him of what was at stake? Possible.

Remind him of nothing at all…escape from life in general, where even Matt himself couldn't bring back his problems? Of course.

He moved forward, tucking his hands into his jean's pockets for lack of a safer place to put them. Matt slept heavily, because he often deprived himself of sleep in favor of work or play…whichever had his attention when it came time for bed. His violently orange hand-gloves were a pale green in the moonlight, and while one hung over the edge of the bed, the other lay across his stomach. A discarded handheld lay beside his pillow, and his system still lay sprawling across his floor. Mello stepped over clothes and paused next to his bed.

What was he doing here?

The question continued to nag at him, but again, the answers were already clear. Silent, Mello just looked…watched how he slept, the way he breathed, the way his fingers twitched in his dreams. He looked, stared in the way that he couldn't dare when he was awake…when they were living their normal lives, and both were fully conscious.

As he came to sit at the foot of the bed, cross-legged on the small dresser there, he let himself…want. For lack of a better term, he hid his mouth behind his woven fingers and just wanted. Things denied him, things that he didn't recognize, things he hadn't really considered…this was the place and the time for them, it seemed. When the rest of Wammy was asleep or gone to their own worlds, and none of them existed as a single person. When the world itself seemed to stop turning for a while, and the magnitude of thought was dimmed in the pervasive silence…this is when he allowed himself to want Matt.

Again, it was simple, unfathomable, wrong, and perfect…it was what he denied, the very foundation of his faith that he went against, because here…it didn't matter. It didn't matter because no one knew…and yes, if Matt woke, Mello would talk, and the moment would be gone. They'd laugh and talk and Matt would work and Mello would watch, and the world would move again. That…that wasn't what he needed.

Tonight, he realized, he simply wanted to look at the way Matt's hair stuck out from his head in strange spikes. He wanted to stare hard and try to discern his freckles in the gray wash of the moonlight. He wanted to know that, if he dared…he could touch.

It led his mind to darker places, the thought of that. He wondered how long until he began to crave that…to actually crave physical contact after years of isolation. He began to wonder what he would do then. It went against everything, every single constant that made up his persona, but it would happen. He knew it, and worse, he acknowledged the fault of it…

Fault that was entirely his, because this is where it began.

This was how it started… with looks, with these small indulgences and he was terrified of it. His hands were warm with the memory of those shoulders, those slender, bare, shoulders, tight in his grip. He remembered how he'd moved, up to…skin. Skin, forbidden flesh, and how that had not only been warm, but softer than the woven fabric of the shirt he'd been wearing.

With bated breath, he allowed himself to remember, allowed himself to think. He remembered the ill-timed joke on Matt's behalf, about stealing a kiss…

An indulgence, and also a mistake in the process, because now his eyes were drawn to those lips. The idea of tasting…

Mello closed his eyes and sighed. No, that was too much, going too far. He glanced to the side, out the window, and wondered what he was doing here…why he was considering crawling up to the pillows and waking Matt with his mouth, God damn him. The thought picked his heart up, and he took another deep breath before looking back. He almost expected the red-head's eyes to be open, watching him with a curious, or perhaps irritated, expression.

Instead, he was met with nothing more than a slight twitch of the fingers.

Matt was his support, the reason he continued to do as well as he did…but he was also his distraction, his weakness.

_We'll just have to be careful, won't we?_

The words came back to him, and he began to smile a bit. They'd been more than careful, more like cautious. They'd tried to maintain the ease and comfort they'd always had, but things couldn't last forever. Especially, if Mello came and allowed this…

Fourteen is an age of experimentation, an age of first-kisses and fumbling romances, but Mello had matured past fourteen under the word and lash of insane men when he was but seven. There had been little time for sexuality when his day to day life had been spent beating the idea of sex out of his thoughts forever.

Forever, at least, until he changed his mind…and Mello still wasn't sure what he was doing here.

Somewhere in the house, a cell phone lay open on a desk, a white screen showing only a set of numbers.

_20d 18h 31m 31s_


	22. Things Change

Thank you all for reading. It means so much to me. The sequel will begin soon, and your final thoughts and questions on this story will be greatly appreciated. I realize that I have left somethings rather indefinite, and somethings I didn't fully explain. That's why there is a sequel, but again, I might have missed something...I know it's far from perfect. So, write me anyway...you might point out something I've missed. Thank you all again.

Step Lightly,

Mikanis

XXXX

The final zipper slides shut, and the bag stands ready. One bag, a single case that contains everything he owns…all of it from someone's charity. Near watches him from the other bed, his expression unreadable. The sound of his voice still drives slivers of annoyance into Mello's skin but it something he's long become accustomed to.

"I don't believe Roger took you seriously."

"I didn't think he would."

"Do you know where you're going?" The white child inquires, watching the bible in his hands with a look of distaste.

Mello merely shrugs. "I have an idea."

Near nods and stands silently. There is really nothing more to be said. This is the end of whatever they've come to achieve, the end of this round. There are no final players, because the game refuses to end. They have played before without realizing exactly the stakes…that their victory could only come at the cost of a life. They will always play, if for no other reason than to have purpose. After this…things will be different. There is a mass murderer on the loose, but it's more than that…it's more than a vendetta, more than revenge.

They've both lost something this time.

Kira…Kira is personal. Kira is a bond the two of them will carry, no matter where they hide. L, in his strange way, has left them a legacy of their own, apart from the title. Hatred, and vengeance, both stronger than any steel, wind their way through this shallow relationship and into the darker corners of both brilliant minds. There will always be competition…

Because of L, there will always be a reason.

Yet, Mello frowns as Near slides toward the door, turning as the handle cleared the latch. They both wait at his movement, because perhaps there is something to be said after all. Perhaps it is nothing, perhaps something to acknowledge the fact that they are in this together, running parallel along their separate paths.

Even Mello doesn't know. However…it is something, at least. "Near…what was your bunny's name?"

The question obviously catches him off-guard. There is a hesitation before the answer, because that…that is something intimate. Something that both have long guarded, just as every Wammy Child has and will, until the day they die. Share it now, and they will never forget…

Just as it should be, in reality.

"Love."

Mello nods, turning back to his bag. "Mine was Home."

"Until we next cross paths…"

There is no answer, and one is not required. They've fought their battles, and this, this moment, is something that neither will ruin for the sake of petty arguments. Near is gone now, leaving him with his private thoughts, his doubts and his fears… and his prayers.

He would never forget them.

Muttering aloud, he stands there before his bed, both hands on his bag as he speaks to one who cannot hear him, one who is possibly too busy to listen…or perhaps simply incapable of response…

But Mello knows better.

"I think it's time you and I had a talk, Father. I think it's time we were honest with one another, and though I haven't spoken to you in true repentance in a long while, I pray you'll hear my confession one last time. Things Change, Father. That is a simple truth that you have taught me. You have taken me from the darkest corners of the world, and thrown me in amongst the blessed. I was pulled from the damned pits, and it was there that I tasted fire." He turns and sits next to his bag, propping one boot up as his thumb strokes the worn cover of the pocket bible in his hand.

"That wasn't enough, was it? I came from a good home, with a good, devout family…a family so in love with your image and your good works that they lived to serve you. Their faith was so great in your miracles, My Father, that one day they sent me away to be…fixed…by your good teachings. That wasn't enough either. I thought I knew you then. I thought I knew your grace and sacrifice…that I was righteous and strong."

"I've come to realize now that there are two faces to you, My Father. You are kind and forgiving, but you are also demanding…entirely unwavering in your creed. You give men power, with your name. They wear you like a cloak, abuse it, and you take no heed." The leather-gloved hand clenches about the small book. "That, I have learned far too well. You have taught me many things Father. You have taught me to love, and to hate. You have given me desire and the sobriety of unrequited love. Though my soul is damned through no fault of my own, apparently, you have seen fit to make sure that I am aware of it."

He relaxes against his pillows for the last time, idly thumbing the tiny pages. "You have granted me the sole pleasure of living my life knowing my future…knowing what is to come, and that I cannot change it. I thank you for that."

"I thank you for the small things, for the tiny graces like green eyes and freckles that at once endear and repulse me, because they only serve to illuminate my flaws. 'Look', you said, 'upon perfection and know thy own faults.' …and so I have. You have given me a best friend worthy of a chapter here in the good book, Father. Mail is a treasure; something finely wrought and wasted upon ill-graced filth like myself. I don't understand it, but then, it's been five years now, Father. If I were meant to understand, I'm sure you would have told me by now."

The fingers pause over the chapter, a small smear of blue ink in the top corner. "I am sure you remember my confession…the written oath that I offered up in exchange for my sanity. That if Mail were to help, then I would accept it…but if he were to hinder, I would overcome?"

He pauses briefly. "I think I lied to you, Father."

"I think I lied to myself." He frowns out across the rolling meadows, watching the grasses sway in this sunny day in England. "I haven't overcome him…and I haven't even tried. I realize now that he was there to help, but in your usual, twisted fashion, he was more of a hindrance than anything else. You, in your 'infinite wisdom', have shown me what it is to be so thoroughly out of my league that I don't know left from right. You didn't give me Mail to help me…you gave him to me so that I would stop entirely."

"I can't overcome him."

"I'm sure you know this by now, but I must say that my own realization of the fact was less than settling. There is no resolution, because something else I've come to realize…is that you don't give second chances, do you?" His frown turns to pained scowl, a look of understanding. "You never really gave me a chance to begin with."

"I am not sure why I loved you. Even less sure of my hatred, because how can one so benevolent cause me so much pain? Is it your fault, or mine? I don't have a clue at this point." His eyes fall upon the little bible. "You know…Whenever I see a statue of Mother Mary…she's smiling. She's serene, peaceful, watching over us with open arms and a graceful smile. We know better, don't we? The art of it is beautiful, but it's a lie. It's a damn lie. She's not smiling…how can she smile?"

His fingernail traces the gold leaf title. "In the monastery, with the madmen and lambs…they had a statue of Mother Mary. Your beloved, the Mother of Christ…and she did not smile. She wept. She wept for the pain of her son, and in essence, all of her children. She understood sacrifice. I often wonder how such an unholy place would carry one of its few truths. I was taught to admire her, to understand her pain. I was taught to mourn your sacrifice…mourn even your love. She and I…we cried…and I understand now that her pain was not just for her son. She cried for herself as well…didn't she?"

"…And she cried for me…because neither of us… had a choice in the matter." The nail bites, dulled by leather, but enough to scour the gold powder from the title. "Did we? I didn't _ask_ for this. I doubt _she_ asked to bear your child. I doubt it so very much Father, because I have been taught the pain it brought her. I have known what it is to suffer because there are some things in life you cannot control. You gave her a son, and you turned my eyes from women. You took her son away, and you robbed me of both heaven and intimacy. While I cannot pretend to know her loss, I cannot pretend that my own does not exist. We cried together, Mother Mary and I."

"I suppose…" He pauses, inspecting the shimmer on his black leather, rubbing it between his fingers. "That neither of us can really blame you…you have a plan for each of us after all, don't you? Lately, Father, I've come to realize how very…convenient that is. I've come to realize…that Near was right. Religion…faith…has an answer for everything."

"So pardon me for hating you."

"However, I must confess that I see it now, whereas I didn't before…how the grand scheme of my life has led up to this point, and I must commend your brilliant penmanship. You've damned me, and in the process, freed me to do what needs to be done. Clever."

He flips the cover open again, those first words like a comforting touch to his soul as he reads the familiar text. "…And I must say…I get it. You have spent the majority of my life making it hell. I am prepared for whatever comes simply because of the trials and hardships you have imposed on me…"

He stands again, glancing around the room as he crossed to the window. "There is no peace to be had here anymore…not even your words offer me comfort. That is why I must say this now…while I am strong. It's rather ironic, how your strength would be the one I needed to end it all."

He opens the bible again, thumbing pages, and his voice is quiet for a long time. When it comes again, it is strong. "I believe it is time we parted ways, Father. I think we have served each other long enough and it has been an abusive cycle. Thank you, for the strength you've given me. Thank you for Mail, and for Wammy. Thank you for Near and thank you, personally, for making me into something strong. I am damned. When I was young, I couldn't quite believe it, I hoped and prayed that you would change your mind…change me. I tried to change myself, but…there are no second chances. I am what you made me…what I made me…and because there are no other options, I suppose that 'me' will have to do."

Here he takes a deep breath.

"I am glad to have known you…glad to have once loved you. I am glad to have known your miracles in all their terrible, righteous glory."

"But you are no longer the author of my life." The fists clench on the covers, a slight tremble present in his grip, if not his voice, if not his soul.

"So I never had a chance. I know."

Another second's hesitation, but his resolve is firm. "…But I'm no longer living by your rules. If you will not change me…I will not change for you. You, in all your goodness and love, have become the greatest hindrance in my life. I can do great things Father. I _will _do great things…"

"But it will no longer be in your shadow." The bible tears easily, the worn pages and wax ink shredding in his powerful grip. "It will no longer be yours to decide. Judgment is coming, and I cannot stop it. If I cannot change my fate, then Damn you, I will change my life."

"I am done with you, Father…you whom I once adored and cherished…The God I once craved and feared. We are done, you and I." Pages flutter to the floor, the cover following with a hollow tap to the wood.

"I suppose I'll see you in Hell. Father Forgive…but things change."

XXXX


End file.
